Welcome to the Whirlwind
by Gratiae
Summary: Having asked the question that would change their world forever, Dr. Spencer Reid and Calliope Sellers have jumped directly into the whirlwind to the rest of their lives. But can they make it out at the other end unscathed? Sequel to "Mystery Muse."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p>"<em>According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves." – Plato<em>

o o o o

25 December, 2010

How the nerdy, socially inept Dr. Spencer Reid found himself engaged to the biggest social butterfly to ever live, he had no idea, but that's the way he woke up on Christmas morning – engaged to the love he'd never expected, Calliope Sellers. If someone had asked him three years ago, Spencer would have said he expected to be a perpetual bachelor, destined to live his life with books and education and serial killers. Now that life was so far in the past he wouldn't have been able to see it with a telescope.

"Spencer! Where's Perses' Christmas collar!" Calliope poked her head into the bedroom. Her curly hair spilled over her shoulder, obscuring the neon green and pink stripped sweatshirt she wore over her grey yoga pants.

"Still at the store," Spencer smiled as she walked towards him, the Goofy slippers she wore scuffing against the hardwood floor. "You never bought it."

"I didn't?" Her brow furrowed together as she tried to remember. Spencer wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a quick kiss.

"No. You spoke about buying it nine times, but, as far as I know, you never actually bought it."

"I could have sworn I bought it," Calliope sighed and Perses, their one-year-old Bernese Mountain Dog, trotted into the room carrying what had just last night been Spencer's favourite sweater. The frayed remains demonstrated exactly how appropriate it was to have named him after the Titan of Destruction. Perses jumped up on the bed and dropped the sweater. He thumped his tail happily as Spencer winced at the soggy wool. Calliope scratched his head with a fond smile, "No festive Christmas wear for you, Pers."

"Because purple and yellow screams Christmas," Spencer gestured at the bright purple and yellow sweater and yellow slacks hanging in a plastic drycleaners sleeve over the back of the chair.

"Hush you, my fashion choices are fabulous. Besides, red clashes with my hair," Calliope pushed up on her toes and kissed him.

"Everything potentially clashes with your hair. That's the risk you take when you dye blue, purple and green streaks into already red hair."

"Party pooper. You're ruining my fun. Maybe I'll put a scarf around his neck."

"He might destroy it."

"Naw, he only destroys your clothes," Calliope laughed. "You nearly ready to go? We need to leave for Dahlia in thirty minutes."

"I'm ready. You ready?" Spencer ran his thumb over the engagement ring on her finger and Calliope made a face.

"Better sooner than later. Can you go make sure Emeline's ready? I want to check and make sure all the presents are in the car."

"Sure. She's in the playroom?"

"She was putting a Christmas dress on Sasifi when I checked on her," Calliope nodded absently.

Spencer nodded and gave her a quick kiss before leaving their bedroom and heading down the hall. Before he even reached the pink painted room, he could hear his daughter singing along with Frosty the Snowman. She shrieked "STOP!" with the song and dissolved into laughter like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard in her life. Spencer stood in the doorway of her bedroom as watched her marching in place in front of the television along with Frosty and the children in the cartoon.

"No money, no ticket!" Emeline yelled at the television as the ticket man slammed the gate shut in Frosty's face. Laughing, she twirled in a circle, stopping when she saw Spencer. "Poppy! Can I go to the Norff Pole too?"

Catching her as she launched herself at him, Spencer juggled the toddler for a moment before finding a solid grip on her. "I don't know. I think Maman and I might miss you a whole lot if you went to live with Frosty at the North Pole. Why don't you just come with us to Dahlia?"

Emeline appeared to be thinking hard, her little face wrinkled and she bit her bottom lip the way Calliope did. "Grandpa and Grandma?"

"They'll be there," Spencer nodded, fixing a loose barrette in her crinkly brown hair. The three-year-old's barrettes rarely stayed clipped.

"Presents?"

"Yup. You saw us putting Santa's presents in the SUV."

"Cake?"

"Probably," Spencer laughed. "What's with all the conditions, Princess?"

"I wanna watch Frosty, Poppy!" Emeline twisted in his arms to look back at the television where Frost was carrying the girl through a snow storm.

"How about we bring Frosty in the car? We can bring the Grinch and Rudolph too."

Emeline's face lit up as Spencer solved all her problems with a single suggestion. She wiggled and squirmed until Spencer put her down. Running back to where she had been watching Frosty, she picked up the Just-Like-Me American Girl Doll lying face down on the carpet. She ran back to Spencer with the half-dressed doll, holding her out for him to take.

"Do the snaps, Poppy!" Emeline demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"Peas."

"Please."

"Please." Emeline parroted the correct pronunciation and Spencer took the doll. Squatting down, Spencer tugged the red Christmas dress farther up over the doll's brown plastic arms, quickly snapped the clasps along the back of the dress and handed it back to Emeline. "Sasifi's ready for the party now, Poppy!"

"She is. Now that your doll's ready, let's get you ready. Where'd Maman put your dress?"

"In the car."

"Is that what you want to wear while we drive?" Spencer gestured at the flannel Buzz Lightyear footie pajamas she wore. Emeline had seen them as they passed the boys' section in Target a month ago and immediately fallen in love. Now she refused to sleep in anything else. Spencer had a pretty good guess what her answer would be.

"Yes. Can I wear Buzz at Grandpa and Grandma's too?" Emeline turned big brown eyes on him, as wide as she could possibly make them, and puffed her bottom lip out a little.

"Sorry, Princess. You have to wear your Christmas dress," he shook his head. Emeline gave a long-suffering sigh, but didn't speak as Spencer walked over to the TV and took the Blu-ray out of the Blu-ray player and stuck it in the box. "Okay. Come on. Where's Grinch and Rudolph?"

Emeline ran across the room to the child-sized bookshelf and pulled two disks off the shelf, running back to Spencer and shoving them up at him. Spencer took them and together they gathered up Sasifi, her crayons, her _Tangled_ colouring book, and her favourite yellow blanket. Together, they walked out of the playroom and Emeline immediately ran to Perses and threw her arms around him.

"Eme, come on," Spencer grabbed the little girl around the middle and pulled her off of the dog. "We have to put on your coat and shoes."

"Minnie!" Emeline shouted as soon as he set her back on her feet and took off back to her bedroom. Spencer sighed, putting her coat down on the counter next to her things.

"Emeline, come back here!"

Calliope poured coffee into a travel mug and tried to hide her smirk. Sometimes corralling Emeline was harder then halting a hurricane – a trait she inherited a hundred percent from Calliope. Spencer made a face at her and she snickered as she stirred in sugar.

"You get Emeline ready and I'll finish with the car."

"Not a chance," Calliope laughed, shaking her head and leaving the travel mug on the counter to wrap her arms around his neck. "She's all yours right now."

Spencer leaned down and kissed her, pulling her close just as Emeline came barreling back into the room with a worn out and tatty stuffed Minnie Mouse doll. With a soft groan, Spencer rested his forehead against Calliope's and glanced down at the little girl. Calliope dissolved into giggles and sashayed away from him back to their bedroom. Spencer squatted down to Emeline's level. "Princess, you have terrible timing."

Emeline smiled at him and hugged the Minnie doll tightly. She went everywhere with the stained doll. It was the only toy she had that had survived the earthquake in Haiti that left the little girl an orphan with only an ailing grandmother. Haiti was where Calliope had met Emeline. She had, along with her grandfather, gone to Haiti right after the earthquake to help where they could and Emeline latched herself onto Calliope.

There had never been a discussion about what would happen to Emeline. Well, there had been, but it had been more of a 'if this is what you want, this is what I want' conversation. Until Spencer had made the trip down to Haiti a month after the earthquake, met Emeline and fell in love with the little girl for himself. Now he couldn't imagine life without his daughter and eagerly awaited the finalization of her adoption papers.

"Can I have juice, Poppy?"

"Orange juice or apple?"

"Apple," Emeline followed him to the fridge and happily accepted the juice box after Spencer jammed the little plastic straw through the foil-covered hole in the top. It didn't take long for them to finish shoving the last few things they were taking into the already full SUV and the four of them pilled in along with their stuff. Perses thumped his tail happily, excited for the car ride, and Emeline happily watched the opening credits of 'Frosty the Snowman' as they pulled out of the garage and headed for their long driveway through the trees to the main road.

Once they were through the trees and out the gate onto Lee Drive, they waited for the gate to close before ambling away down the road. The snowplow had already been through this morning and snow was piled up on either side of the two-lane road. They turned right onto Lafayette Boulevard and when Calliope kept going straight instead of making the expected left onto Route Three, Spencer raised an eyebrow.

"I forgot Grandpa's gift in my office," Calliope explained and Spencer rolled his eyes.

"We're going to be late."

"I'll be quick, Marlin," Calliope quipped as she pulled to a stop in front of The Hobbit Hole.

"That won't make us less late, Dory," Spencer snarked back at her. Calliope broke out into a wide grin and leaned across to kiss him as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"You got my joke," her crooked smile made him smile and he squeezed her hand has she pulled away, stepping out of the car.

"Don't slip!" Spencer called as she closed the door behind her. Calliope dashed up the steps to the brownstone and Spencer waited for her to slip on the icy stone steps, relieved when she kept her footing the entire way up. When she unlocked the door and slipped inside, Spencer keep staring at the building, letting the memories of the last two and a half years wash over him.

This building was where it all started. Up those steps, past the front desk, down the hall, through the third door on the left in the room decorated to look like Lothlórien. He had been sitting there, re-reading _The Odyssey_ for the ninety-seventh time when she came waltzing into his life to turn it upside down and sideways.

Calliope jumped back in the car with a small wrapped box, which she shoved into Spencer hands, throwing her own hands against the air vents to warm them up. "Mary, Joseph and the camel, it's freezing outside."

"It's twenty-four degrees outside, Sweetheart. It's below freezing. And you weren't wearing gloves."

"I wasn't asking for comments from the peanut gallery," she stuck her tongue out at him and flexed her fingers, making her knuckles crack as she did so. Spencer gave her a quick kiss before she threw the SUV out of park and into drive and they pulled back out onto Caroline Street. "To Dahlia!"

"Doll-yah!" Emeline shouted happily from the back seat.

The drive from Fredericksburg to Williamsburg usually took about two hours, depending on how far over the speed limit Calliope decided to drive or how many coffee and/or bathroom breaks were necessary. With the snow and the ice, it took close to three hours before they made it to Williamsburg and Emeline was beginning to fuss. _The Santa Clause_ played in the Blu-ray player and, while Emeline loved all three of _The Santa Clause_ movies, she'd been in the car too long and she wanted out.

"_Tinsel. Not just for decoration."_

"Maman, I wanna go home," Emeline pouted, pulling on Perses' tail as the dog ignored the annoyance.

"We're almost there, Princess," Calliope said as she turned the car onto a dirt road with mounds of snow on each side. They passed a beautiful marble sign that read 'Dahlia Plantation' in big, beautiful engraved script. Beneath that, smaller script said 'founded sixteen ninety-four.' The sign stood a few yards in front of the open gate through which they drove.

As they drove closer, a massive white plantation home rose into view, three stories high and decorated to look like a magnificent winter wonderland. Calliope parked the car, glancing through the windshield up at the antebellum structure. Garland wrapped around the columns and hung from the railings. Wreaths hung on the doors and every window and the lit Christmas tree could be seen from a window on the bottom floor.

"Looks beautiful."

"It looks beautiful every year," Spencer agreed.

"Eme," Calliope turned in her seat to look back at the little girl. "Remember what Poppy and I told you yesterday about getting married and the pretty ring Poppy gave me?" Emeline nodded and stared at her as Spencer reached up and turned off the movie, an action that got Perses' attention more than it got Emeline's. "That's going to be our little secret until Maman and Poppy say something, okay?"

"Okay."

"So we're not going to tell Grandpa or Grandma, right?"

"Right. Why?"

"Because it's a surprise," Spencer explained.

"What a surprise?"

"That Maman and Poppy are getting married," Calliope smiled at her.

"Oh. Okay," Emeline smiled a wide, toothy smile. "Can we see Grandpa and Grandma now?"

"Yes, we can see Grandpa and Grandma," Spencer laughed and got out of the car, the snow crunching beneath his shoes. He pulled Emeline out of her car seat after pulling on and zipping up her jacket. Calliope let Perses out of the car and the dog immediately jumped down and straight into a pile of snow. Calliope took two of the bags from the back of the SUV and Spencer took a one bag in one hand as he carried Emeline in the other. The four of them trekked up the marble steps from the ground to the white porch, Perses bounding ahead of them and waiting impatiently at the top.

Calliope put one of her bags down and flipped through her keys, finding the one she wanted and unlocking the big French doors. She pushed it open and the bells on the wreath jingled as it bounced against the door. Spencer watch her put down her bags and pull the ring off of her ring finger, shoving it into her pocket. She gave him a nervous smile that he returned.

"Grandpa! Mammy! We're home!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I don't even know what to say. I mean, I seriously have no idea. I HAVE SO MANY EMOTIONS.**

**Okay, the people who are just picking this up and don't know me already are sitting there like, "Da fuq is wrong with this girl?" and the rest of you who've been with me through _Mystery Muse_ are like, "Welp, Thalia had too much Monster today, now didn't she? Someone should really take that away from her." Whichever one you are, I LOVE YOU. And yes, I have had too much Monster today. And I haven't even finished one.**

**OKAY. _Welcome to the Whirlwind_ is the sequel to _Mystery Muse_, which somehow, by some miracle of God, became very well loved by people other than myself. God has a fantastic sense of humour. _Mystery Muse_ also has a bazillion one-shots that go along with that - I lovingly call them "deleted scenes." It also has a parallel story for Derek set ten years in the past. Basically, I love everything about my little world and I hope you do too!**

**Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p>"<em>Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared." - Buddha<em>

o o o o

25 December, 2010

"Grandpa! Mammy! We're home!" Calliope's voice echoed through the plantation home and they could hear footsteps headed towards them from the library. Perses trotted off towards the kitchen in hopes that Helena would mistake him for a starving animal and give him scraps. Brenda Sellers, Calliope's grandmother of sorts, emerged from the library seconds later with a huge smile on her face and her arms outstretched. Emeline squirmed in Spencer's arms, nearly toppling herself out of them until Spencer put her down and she ran across the marble floor.

"Grandma!" Emeline launched herself at Brenda and Brenda scooped her up, kissing both her cheeks and hugging the little girl tight.

"Hello, Sweetheart!" Brenda looked over Emeline's head to smile at Calliope and Spencer, both of whom were shedding their coats and handing them to a maid that had come from the kitchen just as Perses was entering it.

"Thank you, Angela. Those go under the tree," Calliope gestured at the bags of wrapped gifts as her grandfather, Dr. Ben Sellers, entered the fray. "Grandpa! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Peanut!" Ben hugged Calliope tightly, kissing her forehead, and then shook Spencer's hand. "Merry Christmas, Spencer."

"Merry Christmas, Ben. Merry Christmas, Brenda."

"Merry Christmas!"

"And God bless us, everyone!" Calliope exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "Okay. Now let's get out of the foyer."

The family of five laughed and talked their way into the parlor where a twelve-foot tree stood framed by even taller picture windows. The smell of pine filled the room that usually smelt like pineapple from the wood polish used on the furniture and the mantel. Brightly wrapped boxes with ribbons of satin and tulle, plaid and strips matched the colours of the ornaments on the tree and the white lights reflected off the metallic paper.

"Maman! Santa came here too!" Emeline crowed happily as her eyes rounded widely at the sight of all the presents.

"He did," Calliope nodded, "but I don't think _all_ of those are for you."

Emeline looked horrified at the thought and squirmed in Brenda's arms until she was put down on the floor to rush over to the pile of presents. She couldn't read, but she knew what her name looked like and she scurried around the tree trying to find one with her name on it.

"When are Jill, Keely and co getting here?" Calliope turned to Brenda, who was watching Emeline knocked over a box.

"Keely and Trisha are at Trisha's parent's house until this afternoon, they'll probably be here around four. Baby Ben gave Jill and Steve a late start. They should be here in an hour or so."

"And everyone else is getting here at four too. Perfect," Calliope squatted down as Emeline came tottering towards her with a present in her hands.

"Maman! This one's for me!"

Calliope took the red box from her and looked at the label. "You're right! This one does say Emeline."

"Can I open it, Maman? P'ease?"

"Not until later, Sweetie. We have to wait until everyone else gets here. Go put this back under the tree." Calliope handed the box back and Emeline toddled with it back to the tree. Calliope turned towards Brenda. "Kaden and Elissa are coming at three."

She was referring to her half-brother and his mother, both of whom the Sellers had only found out about that past September. Kaden was fourteen years older than Calliope and the eldest of their father, Henry Seller's five children. Henry Sellers and his wife Hannah, Calliope's mother, had died in a car crash three weeks after Calliope's birth, along with their three older children, Orlando, Demetrius and Rosalind. Elissa Kaytis, embarrassed at getting pregnant her freshman year of college, had never told Henry of Kaden's existence and now the two siblings were starting to form a relationship.

Perses started barking excitedly as the doorbell rang and Emeline noisily dropped the box she was holding and ran in the direction of the door. Loud voices filled the foyer as people filled inside.

"Merry Christmas, antisocial people!"

"Bree-Bree!" Emeline's screech indicated Calliope's cousins, aunts, and uncles had arrived.

"Hey!" Calliope ran out ahead of everyone else and mugged Ashanti Gregg as her sister Breelyn scooped up Emeline. Letting go of Ashanti, she hugged their parents, Mark and Ashley, before moving on to her other aunt and uncle, Rachel and Joseph Berton. "Merry Christmas!"

"Shawn and Patrick are picking up Chris and Robby from their mother's. They'll be here in a minute," Joe kissed Calliope on the cheek, explaining his sons and grandsons absence.

"Why'd Patrick go too?"

"Reinforcements."

"Why'd he ever marry that witch?" Calliope mumbled the oft mumbled – and sometimes shouted – question and hugged Rachel.

"At least we only have to deal with her on holidays," Brenda joined the conversation.

"I have new pictures!" Breelyn held up a battered, unopened envelope and the entire group shouted. Clearly written in block letters across the top, though the end was slightly obscured by a black military ink stamp, was 'OPEN ON CHRISTMAS.' And the much small print beneath it read 'No cheating.'

"We have to wait until everyone gets here," Ben said reasonably, but he was looking as longingly at the envelope as anyone else in the foyer.

"But the entire group won't be here until four," Calliope pouted and Spencer laughing, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and dropping a kiss into her hair. "I don't wanna wait until four to hear Isaac and Greg's letter."

"You don't want to wait for anything." Spencer snarked at her. "You don't even want to wait for coffee to brew."

"It takes too long. I need coffee instantly. Too long without caffeine and I'll die, Spencer. Is that what you want? Me to die from lack of continuous caffeine intake?" Calliope turned her head to look up at him and he took the opportunity to kiss her.

"Gross!" Emeline covered her eyes and buried her face in Breelyn's shoulder.

"Let's go out and see the horses," Calliope squeezed Spencer's hand. Emeline shouted excitedly and within a few minutes, everyone had their coats on. In her snowsuit over her Buzz pajamas, Emeline looked like a mini-Michelin Man Smurf.

"Poppy!" Emeline shuffled a few feet forward in the stable before shuffling back to Spencer and then repeating the process over and over.

"Poppy still doesn't like horses too much, Eme," Calliope smiled. She was already halfway down the centre isle, the heels of her boots clicking on the cement.

"I'm getting better!" Spencer called to her indigently.

"Still a chicken!" Calliope called back. She stopped in front of a stall with ribbons pinned up all around the door and a beautiful chestnut coloured horse stuck his head out and nudged her shoulder, looking for the apple slices he knew were hidden somewhere on her person. "Hey there, Prize. Merry Christmas."

The thoroughbred, Dahlia's Prize, was one of Dahlia's current three-year-olds, or would be in two months, and he was going to win the Triple Crown this year. It was nearly impossible to see any of the wood between replica ribbons of all his wins and top-three placings pinned around his stall. Last year Prize's older full-brother, Prince of Dahlia, had won the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes and come in second at the Belmont Stakes. Nine hundredths of a second away from becoming the first Triple Crown winner in thirty-one years.

"This year, Baby. I can feel it," Calliope kissed his soft nose and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out a carrot slice and holding it out for Prize with a flat hand.

"I'm getting Prince," Ashanti said as she passed Calliope and Calliope nodded. The rest of group branched off to different stalls of their preferred horses, most of them choosing retired racers or mares. Spencer tentatively picked one of the placid mares kept for tourists. Ben kissed the back of Calliope's head and kept going until he reached the stall of his favourite horse, Charlotte, the newly retired dam of a slew of Dahlia's prize horses, including both Prize and Prince.

Calliope was on her horse before anyone else and led Prize in a light trot around the indoor training rink while she waited for her family. "Let's go faster, Prize," Calliope leaned over and gently pressed her heels into Prize's flanks. Prize leapt forward with a burst of speed and Calliope pressed again. She loved the feeling of rushing around the track on the back of a horse.

"Callie!" Ben called as she and Prize slowed back to a trot. Emeline sat comfortably in front of her great-grandfather and waved enthusiastically.

By the time the group was unsaddling and washing off their horses, they were chilled through their heavy coats and gloves and happily returned to the warm house and the hot drinks that waited for them.

"Prize felt great," Calliope sat on the floor next to Breelyn. "I think he's got a real shot at the Crown."

"Prince'll be competitive again this year," Mark nodded. "Black Knight always sired winning horses when paired with Charlotte. It was a smart, smart choice keeping Black Knight's lineage in the family."

"You don't win by giving away your starting lineup," Ben laughed.

"It's not a football team, Uncle Ben," Ashanti laughed.

"Same concept."

"No, it's not!" Calliope turned and stared at him incredulously. "It's a good thing we have Joe and Mark, otherwise I don't want to think about what havoc you might have wreaked on our stables if left to your own devices."

"I'm good with the horses!" Ben defended himself and the entire room started laughing.

"Yes, you are," Brenda patted his knee, "but you're a much better doctor than you are a stable manager."

Calliope smiled at Spencer when he entered the parlor. He sat down next to Calliope and kissed her quickly, threading his fingers through hers. "Sound asleep," he whispered in her ear and imperceptibly moved his thumb over the spot on her ring finger where an engagement ring had been just a few hours before. "She'll probably nap for an hour or so."

"Love you," Calliope leaned against his side and Spencer slipped his arm around her shoulders.

"Love you more."

o o o o

There's nothing louder than a home filled with thirty-two people at Christmas. With the team pulling the short straw and having to be the BAU team on-call this Christmas, no one was able to go home for the holidays and they had all accepted invitations to Dahlia for the holiday.

"Hey, Baby Ben," Calliope bent over the baby boy her best friend and makeshift sister Jill was holding. "You've gotten so big, little guy."

"If only he'd sleep through the night!" Jill leaned against Calliope's shoulder.

"Aunt Callie," Jack ran over with his newest present in hand and climbed into her lap, at which Emeline protested even though she was happily cuddled in Derek's arms with the stuffed animal he'd given her.

"Hey there, Jack Attack," Calliope kissed his cheek. "Show me whatchya got."

"Hey Kaden," Spencer leaned against the wall next to Kaden, who nodded at him. The two sat quietly, watching the ruckus unfolding around them.

"Where Christmases like this at your house?" Kaden glanced at him.

"I was an only child of divorced parents living with my schizophrenic mother. Christmas didn't even include a tree. What about you?"

"Eh, used to go over and spend it with my grandparents as a kid. My, uh, other grandparents," Kaden amended needlessly. "They passed away when I was in my twenties. It wasn't like this, but it was nice. I liked it."

"Sounds nice."

"It was."

The conversation died and they stood side-by-side watching until Emeline decided she'd had enough of Derek and tumbled across the room to Kaden. "Uncle Kady."

"Hey, Munchkin," Kaden kissed her and smoothed out her Christmas dress. "Did I tell you you look pretty?"

Emeline giggled and threw her arms around his neck when he picked her up. "Yes, Uncle Kady. Poppy, I'm hungry."

"It's almost dinner time, Princess. Almost."

o o o o

"Dear everyone," Joe read aloud from the letter he had just opened.

"Well that's personalized," Shawn quipped as everyone started laughing.

"Dear everyone," Joe started again. "First off, we're doing fine. Thanks for the Christmas packages. You definitely went overboard on the cookies, but the guys loved them. We could tell the ones Cal had a hand in, though. Not even the dogs would eat those."

Calliope dropped her head in her hands and laughed silently until tears were trailing down her cheeks and her face was red.

"Yes, Mama, we really are fine. Can't tell you where we are, of course, but we've got a good group of guys in our platoon and we're keeping each other safe."

The letter went on for pages, full of jokes to the group and specific people, making sure to say something to everyone present. It took nearly half an hour to read to the last page of the letter as laughter and outbursts kept interrupting.

"Love you all so much. We'll see you soon. Love, Gregg and Isaac. P.S. Congrats to Cal on finally getting that ring and condolences to Spencer for having to spend the rest of his life with our crazy cousin. We wish you luck. You'll need it. Thanks for the letter, Spencer. It was the best news we've gotten since shipping out."

Every head was staring at Calliope and Spencer as Joe lowered the letter.

"Is there something you want to share?" Derek somehow managed to speak first.

"No way, I would have noticed a ring!" Penelope called from where she was sitting between Derek and Kevin.

Calliope reached into the pocket of her yellow slacks, pulled out the ring she'd shifted from her jeans pocket when she changed and slipped it onto her left ring finger. "We had a plan, but Gregg and Isaac ruined that! Surprise!"

The room exploded, chairs flying backward as Brenda and Penelope jumped up at the exact same time.

"YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED?"

"WHAT OH MY GOD!"

"CONGRATS!"

"OH MY GOD, CALLIE!"

"ABOUT TIME, SPENCER!"

"I KEPT THE SECRET, POPPY! I WAS GOOD!"

A piercing wolf-whistle silenced the room and Ben stood at the head of the table with his thumb and forefinger still in his mouth. He motioned for Calliope, who stood and went to him with a smile on her face. He held out a hand and Calliope laid hers in his.

"You have perfect taste, Spencer. Congratulations, Peanut," Ben hugged her and kissed her forehead. "He's a good one, Callie."

"I know."

The explosive noise started again and, after Brenda, Calliope and her hand was passed from one person to the next until she was dizzy. Spencer waited patiently with Emeline in his lap until Dave and Aaron sat down on either side of him.

"It's gonna be like this until the wedding," Dave said casually. "You no longer matter until the wedding day."

Spencer pulled Emeline's thumb from her mouth.

"He's right, you know. From now on, everything's about her and the wedding," Aaron grinned.

"She's Calliope Sellers," Spencer smiled. "It's always about her."

"Poppy!" Emeline pouted and reach up to grab his face. Spencer grinned.

"I stand corrected."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Sorry it's been so long, but I really just needed a break from writing. Also, reintroducing characters is harder and more annoying than I thought it would be. I have to go to work now, so I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Love, Thalia**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><em>There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart… pursue those. – Michael Nolan<em>

o o o o

3 January, 2011

_CALLIOPE SELLERS GETS ENGAGED_

_By Katie McCullough_

_January 03, 2011_

_It's confirmed! After eight days of speculation, we are happy to announce that Virginian royalty Calliope Sellers of the historical Sellers family that has owned the Dahlia Plantation in Williamsburg, VA since 1694 is indeed engaged to her boyfriend of two years, FBI Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid. The two were spending Christmas Eve together at their home in Fredericksburg, VA when Dr. Reid surprised his sweetheart by slipping an antique Art Deco engagement ring (picture inset) into the Scrabble tile bag while she fixed coffee._

"_She said yes so many times and so loudly that Perses jumped off the couch and started barking at us," Reid is overheard telling his friend and coworker SSA Derek Morgan on Wednesday. For those out of the know, Perses is the couples' one year-old Bernese Mountain Dog named after the Greek mythological Titan of Destruction._

_It isn't yet known if Reid, 29, and Sellers, 28, who met in July of 2008 at The Hobbit Hole in Fredericksburg, have set a wedding date. "I feel like I'm floating on air," she tells her friend Jillian Ackerman, a beaming smile spread across her face._

_Recitation at First Sight_

_When Sellers, a reputable artist, businesswoman, and sole heir to the Sellers' family fortune, met Reid two years ago, she admits she was initially attracted to him because he was the first person to pick up her favorite book, Homers' The Odyssey, in two months. After an unexpected recitation of a portion of The Odyssey and a half hour of banter, Sellers left without telling Reid her name. It was Reid who avidly pursued Sellers, returning to The Hobbit Hole every day he wasn't with the BAU, Behavioral Analysis Unit, on a case until he saw her again, immediately taking her out on a date to a local hamburger joint in town._

_Reid asked her to marry him after having permission from Sellers' grandfather for just under a year. "So that's why you've been so nervous the past two weeks," Morgan teases Reid on the subway. "It's a good thing you asked her already or we'd never solve another case."_

"_His mother (Diana Reid) and I have met Calliope and are very happy to welcome her as Spencers' wife," William Reid, Dr. Reid's father, tells PEOPLE over the phone from Reid's childhood home of Las Vegas, NV. "She is a lovely girl," says Diana Reid. "Just like the muse she's named for."_

_Sellers' grandfather, Dr. Benjamin Sellers, has only high praise for the couple, telling PEOPLE that Reid's exactly what he wanted his little girl to find. "Spencer and Callie are brilliant together. They compliment each other in every aspect. And neither one of them is afraid to tell the other when they're being a moron. That's the making of a good marriage." _

Derek looked up from the glossy magazine he'd grabbed at the stand outside of Starbucks before coming to work and grinned. Spencer was standing over in the kitchenette pouring sugar into his coffee, completely oblivious to the fact that he was, once again, on the cover of People magazine. Well, not technically – Calliope was inset on the front of the magazine next to a small teaser, but Spencer wasn't pictured until the page inside the magazine.

"Hey, Loverboy." Derek called in a sign-song voice.

"What?" Spencer didn't look up from stirring his coffee.

"Your happy news finally made it's way into the rags."

"I know. I saw them at the train station. Star thinks Calliope's pregnant. OK! leaked a draft of the prenuptial agreement. US Weekly's decided that Carrie Underwood is going to be Calliope's maid of honour. And Globe's decided we were abducted by aliens and want Oprah to visit their planet in exchange for our safe return to Earth."

"I hope Oprah pays up." Emily quipped as she sat down at the desk across from Spencer's.

"Cal's making you sign a prenup?" Derek asked, surprised. "That doesn't sound like Cal."

"We've been engaged less than two weeks. We haven't even _talked_ about it yet. I'm sure the lawyers are already thinking about it, but we haven't talked about it."

"Are you gonna sign it?"

"Of course. It'd be crazy not to."

"Does Calliope even know Carrie Underwood?" Emily grinned.

"I don't think so," Spencer shook his head, lifting a hand to his temple as he did. "Just some wild rumour."

"Hey, you okay?" Ashley asked, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. Spencer sidestepped away from her touch.

"I'm fine. Just have a little headache. Excuse me." Spencer gave her a nod and turned, walking towards Penelope's office.

"What'd I do?" Ashley asked, glancing at Derek.

"He, uh, isn't fond of being touched," Derek lied, his eyes shifting to Emily before back to Ashley.

"What was that?" Ashley looked between them. "That look. What was that look?"

"Well, uh, it's just," Emily fumbled over her words, desperately searching for a lie that wasn't too much of a lie, but she came up empty. "Well, Cal and Spencer sort of had a fight."

"They just got engaged like two days ago. What's there to fight over?"

"It was before they got engaged," Derek looked down at his hands and then back up. "And it was about you."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Mammy, you're killing me here." Calliope put her head down and threaded her fingers together over the back of her head, elbows set into her knees. "I don't _know_. I'm not trying to exclude you from anything, I promise. I just don't know yet. I have no idea when the wedding's going to be. I don't know what my colours are. I don't know who's going to be the bridesmaids. I don't know if Jill or Penny's going to be the maid of honour. I don't know what I want to serve. I don't know how big it's going to be. I don't know if I'm taking his name. Mammy, I just don't know. Please, give me a break. All I know is that I'm marrying Spencer at some time at Dahlia and Grandpa's walking me down the isle. That's all I know."

"What about Spencer's parents? Are they going to sit together?"

"I don't know," Calliope whined pitifully, pressing her fingertips to her temples.

"What's wrong, Callie? Why are you rubbing your head?" Brenda asked, looking up from lists and lists of names she was looking over.

"I've got a headache."

"You just got engaged, this should be the happiest time of your life, why should you have a headache?"

Calliope rolled her eyes up to the top of her skull and prayed for a lightening bolt to cut through the brightly sunny sky and strike her dead.

"I'm going to go get some aspirin."

"Come right back, we have so much to do."

"You bet."

Somehow, she managed to make it out of the room before she broke out into a run, down the hall, down the stairs, through the foyer and into the kitchen. In the kitchen, she grabbed the Double Stuffed Oreos in the pantry, the gallon of milk in the fridge and, checking the empty room before she did, opened the door to the cellar and disappeared inside.

_"S-O-S."_

Calliope sent the text to Spencer once she was hidden in the corner behind neatly ordered boxes full of Christmas decorations. She ripped open the Oreos and shoved two in her mouth at a time. This is what her Mammy reduced her to: hiding in the basement stuffing her face with sugar-based comfort.

Half the case and a quarter of the gallon of milk had been consumed by the time her iPhone rang in her pocket.

"Eehoo?" Calliope mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.

_"You Morris Coded?" _

"I don't know what colour I'm wearing." Calliope leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, as Spencer's voice filled her ear.

_"You could look down and check. That always works for me."_

"To the wedding!"

_ "Well, I assume you'll be wearing white. You will be the bride. Brides usually wear white."_

"What did I say?"

_ "What do you mean?" _

"When I called you, what did I say?"

"'I don't know what colour I'm wearing.'" Spencer repeated her opening line after 'hello.'

"Oh. I meant I don't know what the wedding colours are."

_ "Probably something bright. A few shades below than nuclear neon. Are you okay, Sweetheart?"_

"Are your parents going to sit together?"

_ "Yes, of course."_

"Okay. Than, yes, I'm okay."

_ "This was all about my parents sitting together?"_

"No, but at least I now have one thing I can tell Mammy I _do_ know." Calliope twisted another Oreo and scrapped the stuffing off with her pinkie and shoveled it into her mouth.

_ "Are you eating?"_

"No," she mumbled around the crème.

_ "Spit the cookie out."_

"I don't 'ave a cookie."

_ "You're with Brenda. You always stress eat when you're with Brenda. Spit the cookie out. You shouldn't eat when you're stressed. You only eat junk and then you overdose on sugar, put too much glucose into your bloodstream and then you're body produces too much insulin and your glucose levels fall too low."_

"Stop pretending you're a doctor," Calliope snapped as she pulled another cookie out of the bag.

_ "I am a doctor."_

"Not that kind of doctor."

_ "Put down the cookie."_

"I'm not Eme, you can't tell me what to do."

_ "I know, Eme actually listens. There's no case today. Is it really bad? Do you need rescuing?"_

"No, I'm okay. I'm hiding in the cellar. I don't know anything. I don't know when the wedding is. I don't know who the maid of honour is. I'm useless, String Bean. Useless and stupid."

_ "No you're not. You're brilliant, Sweetheart. Don't let Brenda do this to you."_

"I can't not let Mammy do this to me. She's Mammy. She's in my head. She knows how to get me. She's my mother. She knows me. Mom's can _do_ this sort of stuff to their daughter. They get in their daughter's heads and drive them insane. And then, for some sick reason, after a while, they _stay_ in our heads and we start to think like them. And then, if that isn't bad enough, we become them. All of a sudden, you say something and you're like, 'Who the hell just said that? I don't even like Brussels sprouts!' and before you know it you're eating salad everyday and joining the D.A.R. and wearing pastels. You're marrying a future Brenda. Are you sure you want to do that? You're going to come home one day and find me sitting at the table with senators' wives, dressed in a light pink silk chenille pants suit with my hair cut in a short, monocoloured bob and gossiping about who's husband is sleeping with his secretary and you'll go, "Who the hell's that? Where's my wife?' and Eme'll be cowering in a closet somewhere because I tried to put her in ruffly underwear."

_ "I really like your ruffled underwear. Especially the green lacey ones."_

"Spencer!"

_ "Calm down, Sweetheart. You're not going to become Brenda."_

"Of course it's going to happen! It happens to all women. It's like menopause. Men's butts disappear after the age of fifty and women turn into their mothers. It's a sick, twisted law of nature. Like childbirth."

_ "Calliope, you're not turning into your mother. You're going to be fine."_

"I'm a failure."

_ "You are not a failure."_

"What kind of bride doesn't even know her wedding date?"

_ "The kind who's only been engaged for two weeks. August twenty-eighth is a Sunday this year. Why don't we get married on our anniversary?"_

"August? That's only eight months. Can we get a wedding put together in eight months?"

_ "If anyone can, you can. Sweetheart, it's going to be all right. Just take a breath and put away the cookies."_

"But I don't want to put away the cookies."

_"I knew you had cookies. I love you, Sweetheart. You sure you're going to be okay?"_

"Yeah, I'll be okay. I love you too, String Bean. I'll talk to you at home."

_ "Talk to you later. Bye."_

Spencer hung up the phone and put it in his pocket with a smile before exciting the bathroom. With his smile firmly in place, he walked the last few years to Penelope's office. He knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer.

"Hello Merry Groom in Tights. How do?"

"Merry Groom, yes. I draw the line at tights," Spencer smiled at her and picking at butterscotch Dum-Dum from the mug on her desk. "I've got a wedding date for you."

"AHH!" Penelope squealed and jumped up, giving him a hug that nearly knocked the lollipop down his throat before rushing to the calendar on her wall.

"What is that?"

The neon green calendar had the words "WEDDING CALENDAR" above it in pink and orange bubble letters and purple streamers exploding on either side.

"What's the date?"

"August 28."

Penelope bent over and circled the number enough times to tear through the paper. "Oh my GOD! I can't believe you're getting married. Ahh! This is so exciting! Has anything else been decided?"

"Well, Calliope's the bride and will be wearing white. I'm going to be the groom and my parents are sitting together. That's about it."

"Very funny. How's Callie doing?"

"She's hiding in the basement of Dahlia eating cookies and rambling about turning into Brenda and wearing pastels," Spencer plopped himself down into the second computer chair.

"Oh, so everything's right on schedule." Penelope grinned and took her own Dum-Dum from the mug. "This is so great. It's going to be at Dahlia, right?"

"I assume so. Emeline's wondering when Auntie Penny is coming over to play dress-up again."

"Whenever my little angel niece wants me to!" Penelope's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "How about this weekend? You and Callie can go see The Tourist. She's been dying to see it, but hasn't gotten the chance."

"You sure?"

"Yeah! Eme and I can play dollies and dress up and have a tea party and I can give her the new dresses I got for her and –"

"Please tell me you haven't been buying Emeline every pink or purple dress you've seen."

"No! Of course not."

"Good."

"Some of them are other colours."

"You're going to spoil her," Spencer shook his head and then winced, reaching a hand up to his temple.

"You've still got that headache? Reid! It's been, like, three days!"

"I've got a doctors appointment tomorrow morning."

"Have you told Callie?"

"No, not yet. She's stressed out enough."

"Spencer, you have to tell her," Penelope narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'll tell her if it's something. I don't want to worry her over nothing."

The door opened and Hotch stuck his head in. "Oh, there you are, Reid. I've been looking for you."

"I'm right here."

"Reid, I want you to look through some of these files and build preliminary profiles," Hotch placed a thick stack of files on Penelope's desk, away from the computers, and juggled the remaining folders in his hands that Reid assumed were for Morgan and Prentiss.

"What are they for?" Spencer asked, taking the top one and opening it.

"U.S. Marshalls sent them over. All are violent criminals, a handful of murderers. All of them have been on the run for at least a decade and all of them are at least five years cold."

"How much is in here?"

"Everything the Marshalls have. Some more than others." Hotch dropped some of the files and sighed. Spencer and Penelope help him pick up the files, straightening them and handing them back. "Thank you. Okay, just whenever you have a prelim, just put it on my desk. Current cases take precedence, of course."

"I've done cold cases before," Spencer nodded.

"Right, right."

"You okay, Hotch?"

"Yeah, Jack's going through a clingy stage. He's missing Haley and I haven't had much sleep lately."

"Let us know if you need anything. Really," Penelope laid a hand on his arm with a sad smile.

"Thanks, I will. Nice calendar."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Thanks for sticking with me, guys. It's been a rough writing patch this past while. I'm trying to work through it.**

**Also, everything just really sucks lately. It's been terrible. My precious pooch has been sick and he had to have surgery to get his gallbladder removed. He's feeling better, but it was scary and he's going in tomorrow for testing to make sure if he has Cushing's Disease. And he needs knee surgery. But he's going to be okay, and that's the good part. Then, on top of our upstairs neighbours being loud, obnoxious assholes, their apartment got fumigated and all the bedbugs ran downstairs to MY bedroom. It took a few days to figure out what was biting me. I thought they were mosquitoes at first and then I thought they were spiders, because I've riding the nature trail lately. We finally figured it out, but, by that time, I'd been bitten about 100 times. So we had to pack up everything in our bedrooms, wash ALL the clothing we had, and get OUR apartment fumigated.**

**Then, the day the bug guys came (last Friday), my godfather passed away. It was awful. He's been really, really sick for a long time (like several years 'long time'), but it was still horrible actually hearing that he's gone. My heart hurts. He was my favourite of my father's family. He was the only one who made me feel like my mother, brother and I were a part of the family. I wish we lived closer and I knew him better than I do. I love you, Uncle Bob, and I miss you already. But I learned that I work with the best people in the world. Not only did they get me through the first eight hours after his passing, they actually made me smile and enjoy the staff training and have fun with them when I really wanted to go hide in the bathroom and cry.**

**I finish my finals tomorrow and I haven't had time to put my room back together and arpigfuyaerbnrj. Ugh. But I have a great trip to look forward to! I'm going up north to see Jen and Britt and my baby cousin Christina. I'M SO EXCITED YOU CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE. It's like the light and the end of the tunnel.**

**I hope you liked the chapter, I hope it was worth the wait (bleh!) and please, tell me what you think, good or bad.**

**Love, Thalia**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p>"<em>Love is friendship set on fire." – Jeremy Taylor<em>

o o o o

4 January, 2011

"You cannot have chocolate cake for breakfast!" Calliope shouted in the general direction of Emeline's bedroom, stepping around Perses as he got in her way. "You can have oatmeal, eggs or cereal. No chocolate cake!"

"Maman! CAKE, MAMAN, CAKE!" Emeline's screech could be heard around the county and Calliope resisted the urge to bash the frying pan into her forehead in rapid succession.

"First Mammy, then Emeline, screaming, shouting, demanding things, why not, why not, why not, blah blah blah! AHH!" Calliope turned and nearly smacked into Spencer standing right behind her, holding his forehead and wincing in the bright kitchen light. "String Bean, you've got another headache?"

"Same one," he cringed, flinching as Calliope raised a hand to his head.

"Baby, you need to go to a doctor."

"I've got an appointment this morning," he admitted, glancing up to see the angry scowl flash across her face before being masked. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to worry you if it was nothing."

"About time you go to a doctor. Something's wrong and you need to find out what. What are they doing?"

"They're doing a magnetic resonance imagining test."

"You're taking an MRI and you didn't –" Calliope thinned her lips and took a deep breath through her nose. "When were you going to tell me?"

"Uh…"

"You weren't going to tell me, were you?" Fists perched on her hips.

"Can you put down the frying pan?" Spencer took a step back sheerly out of habit.

"No. You weren't going to tell me!" Another deep breath and Calliope forcibly pulled the screech from her voice when Spencer winced at the pitch. "What if they found something? You would have told me then, right? Or would I find out from the hospital when they wheel you in for a lobotomy?"

"I highly doubt they're going to lobotomize me, Sweetheart." Spencer took another step back.

"I might," she snarled and turned her back on him, grumbling to herself as she slammed the frying pan down on the range top, nearly ripped the gas nob off the stove and grabbed the PAM from the counter. She shook the can like it was aerosol hairspray and aimed it at the pan.

The range exploded in flame and Calliope screamed. Spencer jumped forward, turning off the burner and grabbing the pot lid from the drying rack by the sink. Slamming the lid over the fire, he flung the pantry door open and snatched the baking soda, throwing the powdered contents over the flames licking out from beneath the pot lid.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped, her hand over her mouth. "I wasn't – oh my God, I can't believe I just did that!"

"You _have_ to be more careful!" Spencer told her, holding his head again. "You can't set our house on fire!"

"I didn't mean to set our house on fire! It was an accident! And I didn't set the house on fire. I set the stove on fire."

Spencer stared at her, turned and walked away. Calliope slouched her shoulders inward with a sigh.

"I totally set the house on fire, Pers. I'm not meant to cook. It's too dangerous. Give me a frying pan and I'm a threat to national security. I'm more dangerous than Osama bin Laden. Okay… maybe not _that_ dangerous."

"Cake, Maman!" Emeline barreled into the kitchen.

"No cake!" Calliope caught her before she reached the fridge. "We don't even _have_ cake. C'mon. We're going to IHOP for breakfast, Princess."

"You caughted the house on fire 'gain, Maman!" Emeline giggled into Calliope's shirt, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

Calliope sighed, "Yes, Maman caught the house on fire again. Come on. Let's get dress and go get pancakes."

"Chocolate chip pancakes!"

"No! No chocolate for breakfast!" Calliope watched as Emeline ran to her bedroom at full tilt – head down, arms pumping, feet tumbling over each other. If the three year old hit a bump, she was going down like Bambi on ice. "Emeline Noël! No chocolate for breakfast!"

Letting out a soft huff, Perses looked up at Calliope, his bowl between his teeth and his tail wagging against the marble floor patiently. When she stepped towards him, Perses jumped to his feet, tail swishing furiously in excitement. Calliope ran a hand over his head while she took the bowl from his mouth and the second the bowl was on the mat next to the water bowl, Perses began inhaling his food.

"I'm going," Spencer stopped and put his messenger bag on the counter so he could tug on his blue wool pea coat. He turned his body away from Calliope so she wouldn't see his hands shaking while he tried to button the coat.

"Tell me what the doctor says."

"It's going to be a few days before I get the results for the MRI. Maybe a week," Spencer sounded exasperated, like this was something she should know and he shouldn't have to explain this to her.

"I want to know what you know, Spencer." Calliope narrowed her eyes at him when indecision flashed across his face. "_Everything_ you know."

"I'll tell you what he says."

"_Everything_ he says."

"Everything he says," Spencer parroted her words without much conviction. Calliope's hands shot to her waist, fury radiating off her like heat from the sun.

"You're my fiancé, Spencer Reid! We're getting married in less than a year and I need to know if something's wrong with you! You're the father of my kid! If anyone deserves to know if something's wrong with you, it's me! Damn it, Spencer! I hate when you pull this white knight, suffer-in-silence bullshit and you know it."

Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but Emeline popped up without warning and he fell silent. One look in Calliope's eyes told him the conversation wasn't over, she'd be back when little ears weren't present. So, instead, he picked his messenger bag up and slung it over his shoulder, his hands shaking just enough for Calliope to notice and thin her lips.

He closed his eyes and took a breath, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Bending his head down, he kissed her softly. "I love you, Sweetheart."

"I love you too, String Bean," Calliope snaked her arms around his waist and pressed up onto her toes to kiss him again. "I'll see you tonight."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The high pitched whining of the machine made his head hurt worse and it took every ounce of self control he had not to raise his hands at clutch at his temples. Instead, he winced, wrinkling his face, squinching his eyes and tried not to move, tightening his fist around the white hospital gown. The damp, squished earplugs shoved into his ears did nothing to block the piercing whine.

His eyes still screwed shut, Spencer forced his mind to think of something else, anything else. His thoughts locked on the image of a daydream from a lifetime ago, the same, but different. He left his mind wander away from the whining machine and the snowy January to find it's way to his backyard in the sunny summer.

_Spencer closed the door behind him and hurried down the steps off the porch to the sun-warmed grass. He stood for a minute and let the grass warm his bare feet. Happy splashing and shouted giggles came from the pool and washed over him, soothing out the rough patches in his soul. Calliope sat at her easel, set up out in the middle of the sun, with her red hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. Her pale shoulders were bare except for the thin straps of her bright pink tank top and pair of plaid orange shorts peaked out from beneath her shirt. Perses slept at her feet._

"_Daddy!" A small body barreled into him, trusting Spencer to catch her as frizzy red hair sprung up in his face. Spencer planted a kiss on a freckled face and squeezed. "I missed you, Daddy!"_

"_I missed you too, Bailey, my pretty little girl." A second body slammed into his knees and nearly knocked him over. Spencer bent and scooped Emeline up in his other arm, giving her the same kiss he'd just bestowed upon Bailey. "Hey, Princess. Were you and Bailey good for Maman?"_

"_We were good, Poppy. Maman took us to the beach yesterday! It was so much fun!"_

"_I builded a sandcastle, Daddy!" Bailey grabbed his face in her toddler hands and turned his face to look at her. "It was eleventy-seven feet tall!"_

"_No, it wasn't," Emeline told her with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "It wasn't even taller than me."_

"_It was too! It was ninety-eleven gazillion million feet tall!"_

"_Okay, okay. That's enough, you two. Where these two monsters good, Mom?" Spencer bent his head and kissed Calliope lightly._

"_Demons, both of them," Calliope smiled up at him._

"_I knew it."_

"Hey, you okay?" Prentiss looked up from her iPad when Reid walked into the round-table room, pulling his messenger bag off his shoulder as he walked.

"Yeah, why?" Reid kept his answer short and his eyes down, avoiding any light and reluctantly taking the only seat still open – the one next to Seaver.

"You're never late," Morgan watched him sit, his caterpillar eyebrows knitted together and voice concerned.

"Have we started the briefing yet?"

"Just about to."

"Than I'm not late."

"Attention intrepid BAU adventurers, the land of…"

Reid shut off the sound of García's voice. The pitch hurt his head. Instead, he spread the hardcopy photographs out in front of him and tried to focus his gaze on them. Without meaning to, Reid began rocking himself back and forth in his chair.

"All of this could have been religious?"

Reid felt Seaver's eyes on him and he answered more out of subconscious habit than an actual conscious decision to speak. "This could have specific religious meaning or it could just be part of the unsub's signature."

"Either way, his timetable's accelerating. We have a day, maybe two, before the Miami P.D. has another body on its hands."

Reid was the last to stand, letting the other's filter out ahead of him as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Calliope picked up on the first ring.

"_What did the doctor say?"_

"Nothing yet. The team's going to Miami. I don't know when we'll be back. I'll let you know."

"_Be safe, String Bean."_

"I will. I love you."

"_I love you too. Wait, Eme wants to talk to you." After a few noisy moments, Emeline's voice came on the line. "Poppy?"_

"Hey, Princess."

"_Are you gonna miss my recital?"_

"No, no, of course not, Princess. I'll be there. I promise."

"_I'm the first butterfly, Poppy. I've been practicing forever."_

"I know, Princess," He could hear Emeline's lip quiver through the phone and knew she was pouting pitifully, making the face that could get everything short of the Taj Mahal or the Papal Tiara from him. "I'll be there, Eme. I promise."

"_Okay. Auntie Jill made my wings and they sparkle, Poppy. Me and Maman are gonna go get them today and see Baby Ben. But Maman says he's might be s'eeping and I haveta be quite. I'll be super quiet, Poppy, okay? The quietest first butterfly ever in the whole wild world."_

"I'm sure you will, Princess. I love you."

"_I love you too, Poppy."_

Reid still stood staring at the phone, completely dismayed, when Hotch poked his head in. "Reid? You – What's wrong?"

"Emeline has her dance recital tomorrow. She's the first butterfly," Reid pocketed the phone and looked up at Hotch; his eyes narrowed against fluorescent lighting. "I promised her I'd be there. I'm going to miss her first recital."

"It's early yet," Hotch reminded him, a knowing expression on his face. "We might be back in time."

"Maybe," Reid mumbled noncommittally, thinking that the chances were none to less than none, and followed Hotch out onto the walkway slightly raised above the bullpen. Prentiss and Seaver were pulling their go bags from beneath their desks and Morgan was walking back into the bullpen with his over his shoulder.

"First Butterfly, huh?" Rossi asked, having overheard the brief conversation through his open office door.

"Her wings sparkle and everything."

"Listen up!" Rossi called over the railing and Reid winced in pain as his teammates looked towards Rossi. "We've got a recital tomorrow and sparkling butterfly's wait for no agent."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Maman?" Emeline stared out the window of the car, one hand closed over the edge of her purple pastel wings and the other up by her face so she could suck her thumb.

"Yeah?" Calliope glanced in the review mirror at her thoroughly distracted little girl.

"Is Poppy gonna be at my recital?" The question was mumbled around the thumb stuck in her mouth.

"What did Poppy say on the phone?"

"Poppy said he'd be at my recital. He promised." There was a pause and Emeline's forehead knotted together like she was thinking hard. "But when Poppy goes away, he's gone for a month, Maman."

"Poppy's not gone for a month when he leaves, Sweetie. A few days, maybe a week, but not a whole month." Calliope looked in the review mirror again, a sad smile on her face. "Poppy always does his best to keep his promises, doesn't he?"

Emeline nodded.

"Poppy's going to try really, really hard to be there, Eme."

"What if he's not?" Tears pricked at the child's eyes.

"I'm videotaping the entire recital and, if Poppy misses it, we can all watch it at home together. You can dance your part for him when he gets home."

"Not the same," Emeline sniffed.

"I know, Eme."

"Uncle Aaron misses Jack's games."

"I know. Uncle Aaron hates missing Jack's games as much as Poppy would hate missing your recital."

"Poppy should stay home!" Eme dropped the wings to the floor of the car and pouted, the whine in her voice threatening to become a full-out tantrum. "Need Poppy!"

"Sweetie, Poppy goes away so he can catch the bad guys and protect people. You wouldn't want Poppy to stop catching bad guys, would you?"

"Yes, so Poppy says home with Eme and Maman."

"Yes, and if Poppy stayed home with Eme and Maman, Maman would probably kill Poppy after a few weeks," Calliope mumbled the words to himself, low enough so that Emeline couldn't hear her. She turned onto Lafayette Boulevard and then made a right onto Lee Drive. Another few minutes of silent driving and Calliope pulled through the gate and onto the driveway leading up to their house.

She got Emeline unbuckled and out of her car seat, took the gauzy wings and led the little girl into the house. Once Emeline was settled at the table with a snack and Perses sat at her feet waiting for her to drop something, Calliope grabbed the phone from her purse and hit Jill's name in the contact list.

"Hey, Sis," Calliope held the phone to her ear with her shoulder. "I need your help."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

5 January 2011

Reid leaned his head back against the headrest and tried to look like he didn't have a headache. That's what he'd told Hotch, after all, that he'd faked his headache to distract the Professor Walker, but the way Hotch had looked at him said that the group leader didn't believe his lie. Right now, his head pounded and he couldn't take another aspirin for another hour.

Seaver laughed sharply at something Rossi said and Reid gripped the armrest instead of his head. His headache had intensified as the case went on and now he wanted to cry from the pain or gag everyone on the plane. Glancing down at his watch, he groaned. Emeline's recital started in twenty minutes, ten minutes before the jet would touch down in Quantico.

The chewing of Prentiss' chips rivaled the crunching of metal cars in a compactor. The pages of Hotch's book turning were like a windmill slicing through the air. The squishing of Morgan's seat as he shifted caused an avalanche in Banff.

An hour later, the wheels of his red car squealed to a stop in front of Avery's Ballet and Spencer jumped out the car, his head threatening to explode. He tried the door to the studio as it dawned on him that the lights were off. The door wouldn't open.

"Hello?" Spencer called at and noticed the neon pink sign tapped to the door in the same moment.

"_Tonight's recitals have been postponed until further notice."_

Sighing, Spencer got back into his car and drove home, letting himself into the gate, driving through the trees, and parking in the full driveway. The house was loud when he walked through the door and he braced himself. Emeline came barreling through the kitchen from the living room.

"Poppy!" Emeline jumped into his arms and Spencer kissed her cheek. Calliope wasn't far behind her and gave him a quick kiss herself. "My recital got'd cancelled 'cause the air was cold."

"What?" He raised his eyebrows at Calliope.

"The air conditioning wouldn't turn off," Calliope shrugged, looking at the ground. "It was set at fifty and the entire building was freezing, so they decided to push it back."

"Hey, Spencer," Steve gave him a smile as he came into the kitchen with an empty bottle. "Glad you're back."

"Yeah, me too."

Steve turned, leaving back for the living room. Spencer spotted the imprint of a washer in the back pocket of Steve's jeans. Spencer put Emeline down and pushed her towards the living room.

"Maman and I'll be there in a minute, okay, Princess. Go see Grandma and Grandpa," Spencer watched her run back in her purple leotard before turning to Calliope. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Calliope smiled, "… permanent."

Spencer smiled at her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and touched her nose with his. "You got her recital postponed."

"Steve's really good with a wrench," Calliope told him slyly, pushing up on her toes and kissing him. Spencer felt his headache ease slightly.

"You're going to get Eme kicked out of ballet school."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I've been home from Indiana/Michigan/Canada for a week and God Bless Texas. But I really miss my friends already. They need to come visit me. COME VISIT ME, FRIENDS. Honestly, though, I had the best time. And I got pictures with them in our hockey jerseys. Yay!**

**I got my braces tightened on Thursday and it huuuuurts. IT HUUUURTS. I had to have Kraft Dinner for breakfast on Friday. Smoothies and milkshakes, yes. I ate half a bagel and lox at brunch today and it was a bad, bad idea. I wanted to kill myself. But it was so, so good. BUT IT HURT, GOOD GOD.**

**I need chapstick. Bye.**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p>"<em>Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary." – Oscar Wilde<em>

o o o o

12 January 2011

The clock on the Blu-ray player in the living room glowed one thirty in the morning as the door to the garage opened and slammed shut. Calliope lifted her hands slightly and covered the ears of the little girl finally asleep on her chest. She could hear a coat being shrugged out of and hung up in the coat closet. Shoes were kicked off and the door coat closet closed. Feet stomped across the floor and cabinets opened and closed in the kitchen. Water splashed into a cup, the excess dumped in the sink and the cup put into the drain board.

Calliope whispered softly into Emeline's hair, her hands still gently cupped around her ears. Perses lifted his head from the end of the couch, but didn't move. _Gilmore Girls _glowed on the television and the sound was so soft that Calliope only knew what was being said because she'd watched the entire series enough times to have all one hundred and fifty-three episodes memorized.

_ "… If he could get another job and he could save up some money and afford his own place and move out, then I wouldn't end up stabbing him in the neck with a grapefruit spoon."_

The footsteps walked into the living room and Calliope spoke almost inaudibly, her voice serious.

"Spencer Reid, if you wake this child up, I will make you wish you were dead. This is the first time in three days she's slept. I haven't slept since eight Sunday morning. That was almost ninety hours ago. I'm a millimeter away from cracking. If you wake her up, I will stretch you out on a rack, disembowel you, quarter you, use thumbscrews and then, if you're not dead yet, I'll let you pick between the Iron Maiden or the Brazen Bull. Then, I'll leave you with the screaming child and I'll go to Williamsburg to sleep."

Spencer crouched next to the top of the couch and kissed Calliope lightly. "I missed you too, Sweetheart."

"Wait, one more," Calliope kissed him again, deeper this time, catching his lower lip between hers. Spencer kept kissing her, dropping silently out of his crouch to his knees and cradling her face in his hands, careful not to jostle Emeline. His headache was subsiding slightly and, right now, all he wanted to do was keep kissing her. Pulling back slightly, he lifted Emeline's limp body from Calliope. "No, no, no, don't wake her."

"Shhh," Spencer kissed her again, cradling Emeline and letting the little girls head lull against his shoulder as he ran his hand over her back soothingly. "Don't wake her up."

Pulling the satin pink comforter down and laying Emeline down in her bed, Spencer tucked the sheets and comforter up around her snuggly. Emeline shifted slightly, but stayed asleep, her thumb in her mouth and drool trickling down her chin. Spencer flipped on the nightlight and noiselessly closed the door behind him as he tiptoed out.

By the time he got back to the couch, Calliope had fallen asleep where he left her. Her arm was hanging off the couch and her blonde eyelashes light against her cheek, her chest raising and falling evenly.

"So much for having a little fun tonight," Spencer smiled and found himself yawning despite himself. He briefly thought about carrying her to their bed, but decided against it. Instead, he crawled over her and wedged himself between her and the back of the couch. He was settling half onto his side and half onto his back, Calliope languidly turned around into his chest. She sleepily pressed kisses to his neck and her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his cardigan and she dragged it away from him. Spencer stopped kissing her just long enough to pull her hoodie over her head.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

A small mass suddenly slamming onto of them jolted Spencer and Calliope out of sleep and they were instantly painfully wide awake.

"I'm hungry," Emeline whined, wiggling her arms around Spencer's neck

"Make her go back to sleep," Calliope whimpered into Spencer's chest, dragging the blanket over her head and stopping halfway. "Oh my god."

"No sudden moves," Spencer whispered, kissing her forehead and resting a hand on her lower back. "Eme, Princess, why don't you go wake up Perses and we'll all go and – " Spencer didn't even have to finish the sentence before Emeline was running off. "Pass me my shorts."

Giggling, Calliope bent over and found his boxers amidst the clothing on the floor as Spencer kissed her back. She passed him his shorts and he slipped them on. When he was covered, Calliope wrapped the blanket around herself and dashed into their bedroom. Spencer grabbed their clothing and chased after her.

Calliope was laughing when Spencer closed and locked the door behind him. Spencer shook his head, tossing the clothing onto the bed and wrapping his arms around her. Pushing up on her toes, she kissed him.

"Good thing she's only three," Spencer smiled. "That was almost bad."

"Thank God. When do you go in this morning?"

"Ten."

"What time is it?"

"Seven-thirty."

"I hate that little girl," Calliope moaned into his chest and Spencer started laughing. There was an insistent banging on the door, followed by the plaintive cry of a child in desperate need of attention. "I need sleep, Spencer. I need sleep."

"We did waste some time last night."

"That was not wasted time," Calliope shook her head.

"I thought you needed sleep," Spencer ran a hand over her hair.

"I needed _that_ too."

"Go get dressed," Spencer kissed her. "I'll make coffee. Two bags, half a cup of water."

"Might I suggest pants?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

15 January 2011

"January twenty-ninth?" Brenda asked, looking up from the calendar and papers spread out in front of her on the huge mahogany desk.

"Isn't that a bit soon, Mammy?"

"It's the engagement announcement party, it's supposed to be relatively soon, Callie," Brenda said exasperatedly, picking Emeline up and putting her down in her lap. "Spencer, what do you think?"

"Sounds alright to me," Spencer shrugged and Calliope sent him daggers.

"Mammy, that's only two weeks away. What about February twelfth? That's a month, it gives the guests plenty of notice."

"The DAR luncheon is being held on the twelfth," Brenda shook her head.

"What about the thirteenth?" Spencer ventured, but Brenda was already shaking her head.

"It's inappropriate to hold a party of this type on a Sunday, especially when guests will be coming from out of town."

"Yes, Spencer, we can't let them drive on an afternoon before a workday," Calliope rolled her eyes and Spencer bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.

"Proper social guidelines must be upheld, Callie!" Brenda scowled.

"You're right, I'm sorry, Mammy."

"We'll have it the twenty-sixth," Brenda said definitively. "Come look at the invitations and pick a design."

Spencer sent Calliope a look that clearly asked her to shoot him. Calliope stood and squeezed his shoulder, bending down to whisper in his ear. "You picked me knowing exactly what you were walking in to."

"That's the worst part."

"Hey, now!" Calliope pulled him up and pushed him towards the wall table where the invitations were spread out. "You gave me the ring and a promise and there's no way I'm letting you out of this now. I suffer, you suffer."

"Please, let me leave."

"Not a chance. Oh my God, Mammy, why are these so depressing? It's an engagement party, not a funeral!" Calliope picked up one of the invitations and wrinkled her nose. "Black and white, black and white, brown and white, grey and white – oh! Here's a brown and beige! It must be on Valium. Don't worry, little card, we'll get you help."

"Calliope Kirsten, will you be serious?" Brenda asked, annoyed.

"I am being serious, Mammy. These cards are depressing. I need Zoloft just to look at them. Where's the colour? Where's the happiness? It's a celebration. It should be bright and cheerful."

"Every single one of these invitation options are absolutely beautiful," Brenda said, "satin and lace, little pearls. Look at this one."

"Yes, and we will use them when we announce the viewing party at which we plan to guillotine members of Congress," Calliope put the black and white invitation down. "Mammy, surely we can find something a little more, well, _us_ than this."

"No," Brenda said firmly. "These are proper initiations for a semi-formal engagement party. You know that, Callie. You know what the proper procedure is. I taught you all of this. I have taught you what is required of this family and this wedding will adhere to those expectations.

"But it's just the engagement party. It's family and friends."

"These are the options," Brenda said, picking up another invitation, a cream coloured satin with black embossing. "Look at this one."

Calliope pretended to snore for a minute. Then, she took one of the blank white cards, an opaque slip of parchment and went to the armoire in the corner that still held fresh paints and other assorted art supplies. She pulled out tubes of bright orange and pink paint. With a sponge brush, she painted a pink section diagonally across the top, then an orange strip in the centre and a pink one below.

With a calligraphy pen, she carefully wrote a paragraph of text that looked like it was printed off a computer. Spencer watched, impressed and quickly read the inlay as Calliope pulled bright purple and crisp white paint tubes and a rigger paintbrush. She painted a simple dahlia in the top right corner and a few petals in the bottom left and the tossed the paints back in the armoire.

"What about this?" Calliope brought both sheets back and handed them to Brenda.

"That looks beautiful, Sweetheart," Spencer slipped an arm around her waist.

"Yes, it does. For a birthday party, not a wedding."

"Mammy! Come on!" Calliope nearly stamped her foot like a child, but caught herself just in time. "I need a break. I'm getting some coffee."

Calliope left, heading towards the kitchen and nearly running into one of the guests in her haste. Spencer watched as she apologized, skirted around them, shaking her head at their request for a picture, and slipped into the kitchen.

"Brenda, you know I respect you and the fact that you're her mother and you just want the best for her," Spencer started and Brenda listened warily, "but these invitations, they're not her. She's not black emboss on beige parchment."

"It's cream."

"Okay. Cream. Regardless, it's not Calliope. She's bright colours and flowers and –"

"That is not appropriate for a Sellers wedding. There is a certain social protocol that we are expected to uphold and we will uphold. Callie is a Sellers and she has responsibilities that she cannot shirk."

"What responsibilities has she shirked?" Spencer asked. "She does everything she's supposed to and more. Doesn't she deserve to have the wedding that she wants? Colourful invitations aren't shirking responsibilities. Colourful invitations aren't scandalous. They're just colourful invitations."

"Spencer, you cannot possibly understand. You weren't raised in this life. She was born into this family whether or not she wanted it and being born into this family comes with certain obligations. We are expected to be certain places, act a certain way, and be certain people. She has the obligation to have a wedding that fits the social standards into which she has been born. Invitations like that may not be scandalous in the world you were born into, but, in this world, those invitations are outrageous. Like it or not, this," Brenda gestured at the invitations on the table, "is the wedding to which she is obligated."

"It's _her_ wedding," Spencer argued, something he never would have done a year ago. "It's not the guest's wedding. What does it matter if they don't like the invitations? It matters if she likes the invitations. She doesn't like these, they aren't her. She's the one who should love them. Who cares what other people think?"

"You don't understand, Spencer."

"No, I don't. I don't understand living your life to please someone else. I'm getting a headache. Excuse me, I'm going to get some aspirin."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

17 January 2011

Reid looked up as someone walked into the bullpen through the glass doors. The man, dressed in a crisp set of jeans and a brown leather jacket, was obviously not a BAU employee, a fact verified by the visitor badge pinned to his polo shirt. The bristly brown hair did not look familiar and Reid found himself staring, trying to figure out who the man could possibly be. He wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Well, hello gorgeous," Prentiss whispered.

"Down, girl," Reid muttered. "Remember Eli?"

Ignoring him, Prentiss stood. "Hi! You look a little lost."

"Ha! That'd be because I am," he smiled and Reid rolled his eyes, vaguely listening as Prentiss introduced herself. "It's nice to meet you. I'm James. James Murdoch."

"Good to meet you, James. Are you new to the BAU?" Prentiss smiled and Reid coughed meaningfully as she flirted with the movie star next door.

"Uh, no. I'm not. I'm looking for my brother-in-law. The woman at the front desk gave me his office number and directions, but I think I got turned around."

"Well, what office are you looking for?"

"Uh," James paused and glanced at the paper in his hand. "Two eighteen."

"Ha!" Prentiss laughed out loud and Reid couldn't help his own bark of laughter. James looked confused. "I'm sorry, she must have given you the wrong office number. Two eighteen can't be who you're looking for."

James frowned. "You sure? Oh. Okay. Well, maybe you can tell me where Derek Morgan's office is than."

Reid nearly dropped his mug and blatantly stared at the man like he'd grown seven heads. He could feel the headache creeping up his neck to the base of his skull. "Morgan? Derek Morgan?"

"Morgan… Morgan's not married," Prentiss shook her head in confusion, unable to come up with anything else to say. Reid opened his mouth, more because he was stunned than because he had anything to say.

"James!" Morgan's voice called out, startled, as he walked from Hotch's office. His face displayed how stunned he was, but a happy smile split his face quickly, and he nearly jumped over the railing to get down to the bullpen faster. "C'mere, kid!"

The brother's hugged, smiling and talking quickly, looking like a clothing ad rather than two men in a FBI building. Reid and Prentiss stared as Morgan led James away towards his office.

"Wh… when – when did Morgan get… _married_?" Prentiss turned to Reid, searching for an explanation, but Reid's expression was just as blank as hers was.

"Jeeze. Why do I have to be attracted to my friend's relatives? Seriously? Two in a row? Man."

"Literally. And if Calliope finds out, you are in so much trouble," Reid shook his head.

"Shut up, Reid. I'd never cheat on Eli. A girl needs to flirt sometimes, though. God. I can't believe I didn't know Morgan was married. How did none of us know? I have to call García. She can find the dirt."

"The dirt on what?" Seaver walked up, thumbing through a newspaper, and Reid felt his headache build.

"Morgan's married," Reid said curtly as Prentiss started dialing her phone.

"What?" Seaver fumbled the newspaper as her head jerked up in surprise. Reid shrugged.

"Hey, P.G. Can you look up a man named James Murdoch for me?" Prentiss asked. "What? No. He's not part of a case. I'm just curious. Oh, come on. When did rules ever stop you? You tried to get Prince Williams' number from the CIA computer. Rules didn't stop you from looking Callie up when – That's not fair! Why is that 'different'? Why does Reid get special treatment?"

"I didn't ask her to look Calliope or the Sellers up! If fact, I told her not to. That was all García," Reid looked at Prentiss indignantly.

"That was to protect a family member?" Prentiss repeated García's defensive reasoning. "Well this guy just walked in saying he's Morgan's brother-in-law. Doesn't that constitute 'protec…' Wait a second… You knew! Oh my god! You knew, didn't you?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"How was work, honey?" Calliope asked as Spencer hung his coat in the closet and kicked off his shoes. "Wow, I just had a June Cleaver moment. That was scary."

Spencer just laughed and kissed her cheek. "It was interesting. Found out a secret."

"Was it a good secret? Can you tell me? I love secrets."

"Morgan's married. Or, at least, he was. His brother-in-law came into work today, James Murdoch." Spencer leaned against the counter and grabbed broccoli from the bowl as Calliope threw the Steam Fresh bag in the trash.

"I know."

"You know?"

"Of course I know," Calliope bent over the oven and checked the frozen meatloaf. "Does that look done to you? I can't tell."

Spencer didn't move. "I've known Morgan for seven years and I didn't know. How the heck did you know?"

"String Bean, I'm me. I had him background checked. I think this is done. It looks done. Maybe I should stick a fork in it and make sure."

"You had Morgan background checked?" Spencer handed her a fork.

"I had all of you background checked," Calliope stabbed the meatloaf with the fork and it only went down half way. "You are not done, Mr. Loaf. The box said forty-five minutes. It's been forty-five minutes, why isn't it done?"

"You had us background checked?"

"I have everyone background checked. Spencer, when I first met you, I didn't know who you were. You could have been anyone. Do you know how many people tried to get close to me to get things? A lot. A few succeeded too."

"So," Spencer looked down at the ground, thinking hard. "The entire time we were getting to know each other, you already knew everything I was telling you."

"Spencer," Calliope looked up and tossed the fork and pot holder onto the counter. Closing the oven, she walked the few steps over to his and stepped into his arms. "No. I didn't. The lawyers checked you out and told me if you were safe or not. I didn't want to know about you. Spencer, look at me. You believe me, don't you?"

Spencer looked down and studied her. "Yes, I believe you."

"They didn't tell me anything about you," Calliope insisted.

"I believe you," Spencer repeated and then smiled at her. "You probably would have run away if you knew."

"Who would have run away from that face?" Calliope reached up and squeezed his cheeks.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Spencer leaned his forehead against hers. "He's like my brother. I feel like I don't even know him. He has this whole other life I didn't even know about."

"I don't know. I didn't know it was a secret. I just figured he didn't like to talk about it," Calliope shrugged. "Spencer, don't do this to yourself. You know you're Derek's family."

"What's her name?"

"I don't know." Calliope pulled away and peeked in the oven again. "I didn't ask. Derek will tell us when he's ready. Does this look good to you?"

"Calliope, you're one of the nosiest people I know. How are you not the tiniest bit curious about this?"

"I'm too exhausted," Calliope stabbed the meatloaf again. "I had a round with Mammy about wedding dresses. Is this oven hot enough? Maybe the oven's broken. It shouldn't be taking this long. Spencer, look at this."

"What about wedding dresses?" Spencer looked at the meatloaf. "Stop opening the oven every five second. The heat drops when you open the oven."

"I drew the sketch for my dress and Mammy doesn't think it's appropriate. Spencer, is meatloaf supposed to do that?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Callie vs Mammy, Round 1,023,483,483.**

**I'm so tired, I don't aoufipabwef;anwefuaehiwfaijow;sndv. That was intelligible, eh? I made poutine for lunch today and it was fabulous. Yum. I'm gonna head to bed because I can't think of anything else to say. Yay.**

**Thanks so much for reading and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p>"<em>Families are about love overcoming emotional torture." – Matt Groening<em>

o o o o

Dr. Benjamin Sellers

and

Ms. Brenda Sellers

Request the pleasure of your company at a cocktail party

celebrating the engagement of their granddaughter

Calliope Kirsten

to

Doctor Spencer William Reid

on Saturday the twenty-sixth of February

at five o'clock in the afternoon

Dahlia Plantation

Williamsburg

o o o o

23 January, 2011

"Hey!" Calliope plopped down in the fourth seat at the table, dropping her purse to the floor, shrugging out of her heavy coat and folding up her umbrella. "I'm sorry I'm late. We had a crisis at home. Minnie was kidnapped."

"Well, I hope she was rescued," J.J. laughed.

"Yes. We found her in the evil clutches of the monster under the bed."

"Shouldn't that have been the first place you looked?" Emily picked up her coffee with a tired smile on her face. Emily was always tired lately.

"It was. This monster lived in Jack's bedroom," Calliope rolled her eyes and Penelope started laughing as the waiter came up. "Hi, ohhh, you have the coffee. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Can I have the biggest coffee trough you can possibly find and four espresso shots, because that teeny, tiny Queen Mum teacup you have there is just way too small."

"But… this is the biggest cup we have."

"Oh. Well, can I have the four shots and you just leave the pot here? I'll take good care of it, I promise."

"Uh…"

"Really good care of it. It won't want for anything." The teenager still looked unsure, so Calliope just kept rambling. "Prep school. Ivy League. It'll go to Princeton. Yale law school. It'll become Dr. Coffee, PhD. All other coffees will aspire to be just like him. Please, let me have the pot."

"Way to scar that kid for life, Mrs. Folgers," J.J. laughed, shaking her head as Calliope stared at the tiny cup and tried to figure out the proper sugar-to-coffee ratio with the pot sitting in front of her.

"How is this supposed to be enough coffee?" Calliope asked, spooning sugar into her cup. "Who is this supposed to be enough coffee for? The old lady who lived in a shoe? Sneezy? This is a doll-sized cup. Emeline could drink this amount of coffee and nothing would happen. You couldn't drown a fly in this cup. No self-respecting person could possibly think this is enough coffee."

"Can we stop talking about coffee for a minute? We have something important to talk about," Penelope started digging into her purse, hunting around for something.

"Coffee's not important? Don't blaspheme, Ethel, it's a sin."

"I'm sorry, I'm pretty sure your engagement party invitation is more important than coffee!" Penelope produced the card from her purse and Calliope nearly spit her coffee across the table to Emily.

"What is that?" she gasped.

"Well, it's an invitation –"

"That's not my invitation!" Calliope grabbed the pink envelope from Penelope's hand.

"Are you sure?" Emily asked. "It looks like you."

"Well, yeah," Calliope said, dragging the invitation from the envelope and stared at the pink and orange cardstock. The purple and white dahlia and its petals smiled at her from their corners. "I hope so. I designed it. But this isn't what was supposed to be sent out."

"It's the same one I got," J.J. offered and Emily nodded.

"I have a pink envelope just like that. It was in my mailbox this morning."

"This is the one I wanted, but we picked a different one. It's supposed to be white with black emboss and some lace and I think it had a pearl. How did this happen? Oh my God, Mammy is going to kill me. _How_ did this happen?"

"Okay, that wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting when I brought this up," Penelope frowned.

"I need more coffee."

"You haven't even finished this cup," J.J. pointed out.

"I need a bucket of coffee big enough to dunk my head into, a coffee bong, something," Calliope started putting the envelope in her purse but Penelope snatched it out of her hand.

"Um, excuse me, that belongs to me!" Penelope held the envelope to her chest protectively. "I don't know about you, but I'm making a scrapbook of this wedding and I need this invitation!"

"Your scrapbook will be lacking a wedding picture. Hopefully, the news article announcing my suspicious death will suffice."

"Stop being so dramatic," Emily rolled her eyes. "It can't be that bad. It's just an invitation."

"To you, it's just an invitation. To Mammy, it's a Fort Sumter."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer sat in the dark movie theater watching a special, one-day-only showing of _Lady and the Tramp_ with Emeline curled up in his lap. The movie was almost over; Emeline had made it up until the rat was found behind the curtain, but now she was snuggled against him with her thumb in her mouth and her eyes drooped half-closed. The mostly empty bucket of popcorn was propped up in the chair Emeline had occupied.

Calliope was out having lunch with Penelope, J.J. and Emily, so the movie seemed like a good father-daughter event for a rainy day. He had been planning on taking her to the park, but the unexpected thunderstorm washed out that idea. The team had been away a lot this month and Spencer was grateful to have some time with Emeline.

They stayed until the credits were over and the theater emptied out. Spencer stood, carefully cradling Emeline in one arm as he stuck the empty cup into the popcorn bucket and picked both up to carry to the trashcan. Emeline wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight.

Spencer was soaked clear through by the time Emeline was strapped into her car seat. He got into the drivers seat, turned the volume down on Dora the Explorer Dance Fiesta!, and turned the heat up to warm the car. They were a few blocks away when Emeline let out a shriek that made Spencer slam on the breaks.

"MINNIE! I LEFT MINNIE!" Emeline wailed and Spencer turned the car around immediately. Telling her they were going back for the stuffed doll and trying to calm her down, Spencer fought to find a parking space again and finally found one towards the back of the lot.

"I'll be _right back_," he said before getting out and locking the doors. He ran through the rain, splashing up puddles as he went. Sopping everywhere, Spencer plodded up to the ticket desk, gasping. "Hi, my daughter and I were just in _Lady and the Tramp_ and she left a Minnie Mouse doll."

"You can go on back," the girl shrugged. "They're probably still cleaning that theater."

"Thanks," Spencer nodded, squelching his way through the lobby. He repeated his story to the boys collecting trash from the floor and they produced the doll.

"Yeah, we were gonna take it to the lost and found when we were done."

Spencer tucked Minnie into his jacket and ran back through the rain, hunching his shoulders to keep the doll as dry as possible. These shoes, on the other hand, were never going to dry. He threw himself into the car and handed the mostly-dry Minnie Mouse back to Emeline, who grabbed it from his hands and buried her tear-stained face in the tatty fabric.

"Are you hungry, Eme?"

"Can we go to Chuck-E-Cheese, Poppy?"

"Not today, Princess. Let's go to Sammy T's. You can get grilled cheese."

"I don't want grilled cheese," Emeline shook her head. "Can I have casameas?"

"Quesadillas are okay."

When Spencer and Emeline finally pulled into the garage an hour and a half later, Emeline desperately needed a nap and Spencer just wanted a hot shower. Perses followed at his heel while Spencer put Emeline into her Buzz pajamas and tucked her into bed. He followed Spencer out of the bedroom and down the hall to the studio in the back of the house.

He pushed the door open and saw Calliope sitting on her stool working on a painting of the ocean. Dozens of wedding dress sketches were pinned up on the wall, a few with x's in the corner. He stood there watching her until she spoke.

"Close the door."

"Painting looks beautiful, Sweetheart. You drew seventy-six dresses, you should branch into fashion."

"Shut up."

"Excuse me?" Spencer raised his eyebrows and Calliope twirled around on her stool, her expression furious.

"How could you? What the hell were you thinking?" Calliope hissed at him, throwing her paintbrush onto the paint splattered floor.

"I was thinking I was coming into–"

"Ethel brought her engagement party invitation to brunch today. It was the funniest thing, really, because our invitation wasn't our invitation. It was pink and orange with a purple and white dahlia. It looked remarkably like the one I painted. But, thing is, last time I checked, we'd picked out a different invitation. Ya know, black, white, lacy. Remember?

"Anyways, I spent an hour and a half on the phone with the printers trying to figure out how our invitations got screwed up and they said that you came in the next day and told them we changed our mind," Calliope's voice was getting louder and the pitch was rising. "That we wanted a different invitation and a different announcement. They said, you brought in an example and that you waited while they made up a proof of both and that you approved them and wanted them sent out immediately. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT, SPENCER?"

"I got you the invitations you wanted!" Spencer protested. "Those were the ones you wanted! You hated the other invitations, you only agreed because Brenda wanted those."

"Family's about compromise!" Calliope shouted at him.

"Well, you're the only one I ever see compromising!" Spencer shouted back and Calliope threw a tube of paint at him. "This is our wedding – your wedding! It should be the way you want it! It's not her wedding!"

"She's my _mother_! It _is_ her wedding!"

"My mistake, I thought I proposed to you!"

Calliope threw the can of paintbrushes at him and Spencer ducked in time for the entire thing to clatter to the floor behind him.

"I thought it was what you'd want! I thought you'd be happy!"

"Mammy's called seven times!"

"Have you picked up?"

"No!"

"We'll go back to the regular invitations next time. Brenda can pick out the whole thing, okay? I'm sorry."

"There is no going back, Spencer, don't you understand that? There is no 'undo' button on this this! There's only 'forge ahead!'"

"It's only the engagement announcements and the party invitations."

"'Only,'" Calliope laughed. "Yes, 'only,' it's 'only' the first invitation. You can't go back after the first invitation, Spencer. The first invitation is the style for the rest of the wedding."

"It's the style you want, so what's the problem? Maybe it wasn't the most ideal way to get it, but you get the wedding you want! You win!"

"I win? I win! Yes, I get the wedding I'd love to have, so I must have won. I win my wedding, but I lose my mother!"

"So, what? You'd rather just fight with her over everything and then give in and let her have her way the entire wedding? You'll fight over every colour and dress and everything else that goes into a wedding, but you'll give up each time to let her win. This is your wedding, Calliope. I want you to be able to look at the pictures in fifty years and be able to say it was the wedding you always wanted. I don't want you to be at the reception next to me looking at pastels and flowers you hate, eating a cake you don't like in a dress that makes you want to cry.

"Brenda will get over it. She'll be mad, I knew she would be, but she'll get over it. She loves you and she wants to be in your life and in your wedding. You'll make up over this. But if you give in to everything she wants, you're going to have a Scarlett and Rhett wedding you hate. I put up with a lot of shit because of your family, but I will not stand there and watch you be miserable on what's supposed to be the happiest day of your life. I won't do that. I'll do a lot of things for your family, but I will not do that."

"I appreciate that you want me to be happy, but –"

"I don't want you to just be happy, Sweetheart," Spencer took a step forward, but stopped when Calliope narrowed her eyes at him. "I want this to be the most perfect day of your life. I don't want it to be so full of compromises that you hate it just so it fits Brenda's expectations.

"Oh look," Calliope held out the ringing phone, "it's for you."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

_BUCKING TRADITION_

_If there was any thought that Calliope Sellers would be having a traditional, aristocratic wedding to rival Will and Kate's, it's been officially forgotten. The personal engagement announcements (picture inset) went out this weekend and it's a bright and modern. Most people thought the wedding would be a traditional Southern wedding, but we'll see what the couple chooses next!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**It's pouring outside and I have to go to work in thirty minutes. Someone come save me.**

**I don't have time for a spazzy note (because I have to get ready for work duh) so yeah, sad.**

**Thanks so much for reading!**

**Love, Thalia**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><em>"When two people meet and fall in love, there's a sudden rush of magic. Magic is just naturally present then. We tend to feed on that gratuitous magic without striving to make any more. One day we wake up and find that the magic is gone. We hustle to get it back, but by then it's usually too late, we've used it up. What we have to do is work like hell at making additional magic right from the start. It's hard work, but if we can remember to do it, we greatly improve our chances of making love stay." — Tom Robbins<em>

o o o o

26 January, 2011

Calliope lay back on the couch as the world exploded around her. Emeline and Jack were screaming and chasing each other with Perses barking at them, jumping back and forth. The alarm was shrieking all through the house, echoing at an ear splitting decibel.

Maybe if she lay very, very still, everything would stop. It was a good plan, but it didn't seem to be working that well for her so far. A loud crash came from the direction of Jack's bedroom, followed immediately by shouted claims that 'it' was not their fault, 'it' must have happened by magic.

"I should go check and see what that is," Calliope told herself, still not opening her eyes. With a groan, she rolled off the couch and pulled herself into an almost upright position. She reached over and picked up the mug of coffee, standing and following the noise to the bedrooms. Poking her head inside, Calliope sighed at the mess of toys that had fallen out of the plastic bin tower that had been knocked over. "Both of you. In the living room. Right now."

Jack dropped what he was holding and grabbed the Iron Man action figure off his bed. He looked extremely guilty as he took Emeline's hand and led her out of the bedroom and into the living room. The two sat down on the couch, Emeline clutching Minnie Mouse and not letting go of Jack's hand as Calliope popped _Despicable Me_ into the Blu-ray player and turned the flat screen on.

"Neither one of you is allowed to move from that couch, got it? If a single butt gets off this couch, you're both toast." They both nodded, wide-eyed, and Calliope turned and strode purposefully towards the cellar door, stopping before she took a step down the stairs and turning around to look at them again. "Not one butt."

After a second set of nods, Calliope hurried down the stairs and reached the bottom with her hands on her hips. Lawrence Kyle, her friend from college and the engineer who'd designed and built the alarm system for her bungalow five years ago, was kneeling on the floor with wires and plugs spilling out of the metal box like stuffing from the Thanksgiving turkey.

"Lawrie, please, please, _please_, tell me the alarm is going to stop soon."

"Just a few minutes more and the alarm will be off, but I can't make any promises about when the gate will open again," Lawrie turned around and told her, his voice raised to be heard over the alarm. "Aren't you cold?"

Calliope looked down at her yellow sundress and shrugged, the thin straps moving on her shoulders. "No. I'm not. What happened with the alarm?" The shrieking stopped and the sudden silence almost hurt her ears after two hours of nonstop noise. _Despicable Me_ was extremely loud without the piercing alarm blaring. Calliope sighed in relief. "Oh thank God. I'll be right back."

Running back upstairs, she turned the sound down, gave another warning not to leave the couch and returned to the basement. Perses followed her down the stairs and, when she got to the bottom, Lawrie had his entire head stuck in the box, disconnected wires protruding around his blond hair and Calliope was reminded of how she and Jill wrapped and knotted embroidery thread around tiny strands of their hair when they were teenagers, once nearly getting suspended from school for breaking dress code.

"If you get electrocuted, I'm sticking bolts in the side of your neck."

"Warn me if I start looking like I have jaundice."

"Don't worry, I have a jaundice alarm. Anytime I get within five feet of something with jaundice it sends out the Bat Signal and House comes limping up in a cap to cure them and cuss a lot," Calliope sat on a table, swinging her legs as she watched Lawrie. "So, what's the diagnosis, Dr. Grey?"

"First, Dr. Grey's a woman."

"I knew that."

"Second, you have fried wiring. I think the storm last week knocked the gate's lightning rod loose. The gate wasn't grounded properly. I see three – four – wires that need replacing," Lawrie pulled his head out and sat back on his heels. "You're lucky this wasn't grounded through the house. It'd be a lot harder to fix."

"Why's that?"

"If the lightning had struck the house or if the gate was grounded through the house, we'd have to check the wiring for the entire house. Which would, in layman's terms, totally suck. I think can fix this pretty easily. At worst, we'll have to dig up the wiring along the road and redo it. Which would be annoying, but a lot less invasive, done in an afternoon instead of a week and wouldn't require the destruction of your walls."

"My hero. I'm buying you a superhero uniform for Christmas. Maybe a unitard and with a giant lightning bolt on the front and your ass in a different colour than your chest and legs to make sure everybody notices your junk. It'll have rocket boosters on the boots. But no caps, because caps are bad – they get sucked into jet thingies and snagged on missiles and if you get it twisted around your head you'd suffocate and then what would I do if this ever happens again and you were dead because of a cap?"

"I'm glad you thought this through, Callie. But what'll you do if this happens again and me and my Lockheed Electra disappeared while flying from New Guinea to Howland Island?"

"I don't have to worry about that, because you don't have a pilot's license," Calliope teased with a smile.

"Ha, you really have thought this through," Lawrie rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to the box and stared, deciding what to do next. "Okay. You go upstairs and let me finish this. Hopefully I can get it finished tonight."

"Thanks, Lawrie, you're the best. And I'm really, _really_ sorry for making you climb over the fence to get in," Calliope grimaced. "And I'm really sorry that you fell into that mud puddle when you were climbing down the other side."

"Don't worry, Callie, it's all going on the list."

"And what list is that?" Calliope jumped off the table and brushed dust off the back of her dress.

"The list of all the things I'm going to tell me therapist, ya know… the one you'll be paying for.

"That's going to be a very long list," Calliope nodded gravely. "I suggest you start keeping track of this list. Lots of detail. Ya know, like a diary. Day-by-day entries. And you should make a backup copy incase something happens to the first one. You wouldn't want to forget any of the trauma I've inflicted. Who knows what damage I've wrought."

"Go up stairs, crazy pants."

"I'm not wearing pants," Calliope grinned, bending over and kissing his cheek. "And you're staying for dinner. You don't have a choice. Is Shawn home? We could get him to climb over the fence too and he could join us for dinner."

"Naw, Shawn's in California on business," Lawrie swiveled her around and pushed her towards the stairs. He was leaning towards the box of wires before jerking up and turned to see her going up the stairs. "Wait a second, you can't cook. I don't wanna die! Callie! You gave Brittnee food poisoning, like, sixty thousand times in college! Callie, you can't kill me! Think of Nathan! What will Nathan do if Papa never comes home? Callie!"

Calliope closed the door after Perses, briefly considering locking him in there, but decided against it. Gru was attempting to adopt Margo, Edith and Agnes when she checked on Jack and Emeline. "Go on, Pers."

Perses blinked at her, wagged his tail once and then trotted into the living room, jumping up and settling between Jack and Emeline. Calliope went into the kitchen, pulling pre-cooked chicken breast from the freezer, dumping it on a plate, and tossing it in the microwave. She rooted around in the pantry until she found the Spanish flavoured Rice-a-Roni box in the back. Grabbing it, she frowned when she felt a slip of paper tapped to the back. Calliope turned the box around and stared down at the Post-It written in Spencer's handwriting.

_"The heat goes on five, not six. Don't take it off five, even if you think it's taking too long. Don't loose your temper with the rice and set the heat to nine, you'll just set it on fire again. It's rice. It'll be finished when it's finished. I love you. P.S. Don't forget to stir."_

Calliope started laughing as she peeled the sticky note off the box and stuck it to the vent hood. How long ago had he stuck that note there for her, knowing she'd find it eventually? Probably the same night she'd set the last box of Rice-a-Roni alight and that was at least five months ago, if not longer.

"Spencer Reid, you are all kinds of wonderful," Calliope smiled at him smiling in a frame on the kitchen counter for a moment before focusing on the dinner at hand. The quesadillas were browner than they should have been and the rice was crunchy, but the sour cream was at the perfect chilled temperature, so she considered the meal a success as she helped Emeline into her booster seat and Jack waited while Lawrie washed his hands.

'That's Uncle Spencer's spot!" Jack protested when Lawrie sat down at the chair opposite Calliope's.

"Jack –" Calliope started to say that Lawrie could sit wherever he wanted, but Lawrie was already picking up his plate and moving to the spot next to Jack.

"Can't sit in Uncle Spencer's chair," Lawrie smiled and Jack nodded seriously. He had yet to warm to Lawrie and Calliope was beginning to doubt if he ever would. Dinner went smoothly, except for the crunching, and Lawrie helped Calliope wash the dishes and put them away before going back down into the basement. Calliope, Jack and Emeline played three games of Super Hero Chutes and Ladders and then Perses ended the fourth game early when he knocked the board over jumping up as the alarm sounded once.

"Callie, try the gate!" Lawrie's voice called up from the basement. Calliope stood and hurried into the kitchen to press the button that would open the gate, then looked at the security stream of the gate to see if it worked.

"Nothing," she called back.

"Okay. Okay, try now."

"Okay… Nope, still nothing."

"Alright, and now?"

"I don't – oh, yes, I think – ha! It's moving! Lawrie, you're a genius!" Calliope squealed happily and watched the gate swing open. She closed the gate, turning around and waiting for Lawrie to emerge from the basement. Emeline toddled into the kitchen and raised her hands to be picked up. Calliope kissed her head as Emeline rested her head on Calliope's shoulder. "Sleepy, Baby?"

"I miss Poppy," Emeline mumbled.

"I know, Princess. He's been gone a long time, hasn't he? Hopefully Poppy'll be home soon. Why don't we go to bed for now, okay?" Emeline nodded against her shoulder and Calliope called to Jack that it was bedtime. Within an hour, Emeline and Jack were both tucked into their own beds, Lawrie had reassembled the wire box and Calliope was making coffee.

"Thanks," Lawrie took the mug Calliope offered and sat down at the bar. The two chatted and drank their coffee, not looking at the time. They talked about jobs and life, children and partners, the way friends who've gone too long without see each other do. Before they realized, it was past midnight and the gate was opening and a red sedan drove through to the driveway.

"He didn't tell me he was on his way home," Calliope smiled widely, happy to see the familiar car coming towards the home. "You get to meet Spencer."

Calliope was practically bursting when the garage door opened and the car pulled in. She stood by the garage, unable to stand still, as Spencer closed the car door and beeped the lock, walked towards the garage door and through it. Calliope didn't give him a moment to prepare himself before she jumped on him. He laughed and caught her haphazardly, wrapping an arm around her waist as she hooked her ankles behind his back. Calliope kissed him and plastic crinkled against her back.

"What are you holding?" Calliope twisted to see and saw the plastic-wrapped daisies in his hand. "You stopped to get flowers? Dr. Reid, I think you're getting soft."

"I missed you. And I wasn't sure if you were still mad at me for the invitations."

"Oh, I'm still mad at you, String Bean. But I missed you too."

"I can deal with that," Spencer gave her another kiss and Calliope unlatched her ankles, putting her feet back down on the ground.

"Good, because I wasn't really giving you a choice," Calliope grinned and took the flowers Spencer offered her. "C'mon, I want you to meet Lawrie. He's a superhero."

"Does he have a cape?" Spencer asked, following her to the kitchen.

"Capes are bad, Spencer, you know that. Capes kill."

"Of course."

"Lawrie, this is my fiancé, Spencer," Calliope made the introductions as Lawrie stood and stretched out his hand. "Spencer, this is my friend from Washington and Lee, Lawrie Kyle."

"You designed the gate," Spencer said automatically as they shook hands.

"And he fixed it tonight. Otherwise, you'd be calling me from stuck outside on the road," Calliope pulled a vase from the cabinet and filled it with water.

"Nice to meet you," Lawrie smiled and Spencer returned the greeting. Lawrie stayed a little longer and, by the time he left, Calliope was half asleep. Spencer closed and locked the door behind Lawrie, tugging Calliope up off the couch and leading her to bed.

"So, how much trouble am I still in?" Spencer stretched out next to her and hit the alarm clock to set it.

"Mammy's on a warpath," Calliope yawned. "I think she's going to kill you. Painfully. And then she might let the buzzards eat your innards."

"That's attractive, thanks for the visual."

"No problem. C'mere," Calliope leaned towards him for a kiss. "I know you were only gone two days, but it felt like longer. Probably because Mammy was on my ass like syrup on pancakes."

"Some people don't put syrup on pancakes. That's a terrible analogy."

"Well, those people are idiots."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

28 January, 2011

Reid closed the file and tapped it on the desk to make sure all the pages were aligned properly. He'd been working on the cold case files Hotch had given him all morning and, not only was he bored out of his mind, he was appalled at the sloppy police work riddling the files.

"No wonder these cases are cold," Reid grumbled to Prentiss. "Dora would have done a better job on these cases. At least she has Map and Backpack to help her."

"Emeline's still in her Dora phase?" Prentiss smiled over her own stack of cold cases.

"If I hear 'Swiper, no swiping!' one more time I'll probably pull out my hair," Reid nodded. "Are your cases as sloppy as mine? Wanna trade?"

"Mine are just as bad as yours," Prentiss shook her head. "We'd just be trading rotten apples for rotten oranges. So, unless your allergic to your apples or you're afraid you're at risk for scurvy, it doesn't really matter."

Reid sighed and opened the next file. This file was easily the thickest of all the files Hotch had given him. His eyes fell on the photograph paper clipped to the left side of the file over the offenders' criminal record. Nick Farese _looked_ like bad business. Sometimes, Reid saw photographs of criminals and they didn't _look_ like criminals and,sometimes, like now, it was more apparent than gravity.

Nick Farese definitely looked like he could have done whatever it was that he had done. His curly black hair was greasy and fell on either side of his forehead, pushed away from his eyes for the mugshot. His eyes were dark and angry and there was a raw scrap on his jaw, like he'd been pushed against a brick wall just prior to the photo being taken.

Reid lifted the picture and began reading the his record. Born the twenty-eighty of January 1979 in Chicago, Illinois. Six feet, two inches, 186 pounds. Last known resident was his parents house in Riverside, Illinois nine years ago.

His previous record was long and broken, the same words over and over again. Suspected mafia connections, but nothing proven. Reported domestic violence, victim Samantha Shane Murdoch, 17, charges dropped. Reported domestic violence, victim Samantha Shane Murdoch, 17, charges dropped. Reported domestic violence, victim Samantha Shane Murdoch, 18, charges dropped and on and on and on. Tried and convicted of the rape and battery of Samantha Shane Murdoch, 19. Tried and found innocent of the attempted murder of Samantha Shane Murdoch, 19.

Sentenced to 14 years, parole available after seven, but he was paroled after two. Reid stopped there and stared. Paroled after two with a record like that? It was negligent. He couldn't be reformed after two years - and he obviously wasn't or Reid wouldn't be looking at his file right now.

Reid lowered his eyes down the page. Wanted for the 2001 murders of Keira Leigh Young, 20, and Elaine Madison Morgan, newborn, and the attempted murder of Samantha Murdoch Morgan, 21.

Reid stopped reading. He flipped pages on the other side of the folder until he found want he wanted. Tugging the page from the folder, he found it halfway down.

Spouse: Derek Terrell Morgan, 25.

He flipped through more pages, copies of handwritten notes, a transcript of the trial in 2000, the findings of the rape kit and it's photographs, photographs of a murdered 20-year-old, photographs of Samantha in a hospital bed looking nothing like the photograph in Derek's office.

Then his fingers touched what he wanted: a birth certificate for Elaine Morgan... and a death certificate timestamped an hour and a half after birth. Father: Derek Terrell Morgan.

Reid read the entire file three time, put everything back where it was supposed to and sat staring at the papers without seeing them, trying to process everything he'd just read. So much was beginning to make sense

_"I'm here if you ever need to talk."_

_"No offense, Morgan, but you aren't exactly well versed in commitment or being a dad."_

_"No, I'm… I'm not a dad. And, no, I don't have a girlfriend. But I know a helluva lot about losing people you love. You know, you're living a dream for someone in our job. Just because you've found it doesn't mean we're all that lucky."_

_"Morgan… I didn't…"_

_"It's cool, Kid. Forget it. Go home. Kiss your girlfriend."_

_"Morgan, wait. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."_

_"I know. We're cool, Reid. Don't worry about it. Go home. Cal's waiting for you."_

Reid could hear the conversation in his head, he could hear the sadness in Morgan's voice and felt the regret for his words again. Everything he'd ever assumed and knew about his brother was wrong.

"Where the hell did you get that, Reid!?" Morgan's furious voice jolted Reid from his thoughts and he nearly fell out of his chair as he turned to see Morgan and his brother-in-law, James.

"It was in the cold case files Hotch gave me to profile," he offered in weak explanation. A single look at the other man's eyes and Reid wished he could unread everything he'd just read.

"Give me that," Morgan grabbed the file from him, closing it and practically put his feet through the stairs as he stormed up to Hotch's office, leaving everyone staring after him. James picked up the paper and attempted an apologetic explanation before giving up and following after Morgan.

"Brenda's going to be disappointed, because Derek's going to kill me before she can," Reid whispered and Prentiss just nodded silently.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**Life never slows down, goodness gracious. Sorry for the long wait, but I got distracted by another story that popped into my brain and won't stfu. Plus the whole working, getting ready for school, life in general thing made it difficult to find time to sit down and write. Especially when Callie wouldn't cooperate with me. I think she was jealous of my new friend.**

**I'm in school now and still working so I'm going to be crazy busy. Hopefully Derek starts talking next and I can find the time to write for him. For now, I have to get ready for work. Love yall!**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><em>Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle." - Amy Bloom<em>

o o o o

28 January, 2011

Long after the rest of the team had gone home for the night, Spencer unlocked Derek's office door and went inside, closing the door behind him. When he turned on the lights, the first thing his eyes fell on was one of the photographs on the bookshelf behind Derek's desk. Derek and Samantha were at some sporting thing. There were Native Americans on the front of their red jerseys. On the other side of the bookshelf, Derek has his arms around Samantha and James. There was a soccer ball in James' hands and they were all covered in mud.

Picking up the frame, Spencer stared at the faces, studying them. He'd known Derek for seven years, he'd seen him almost every day for the past seven years and he'd never seen his expression that happy, that at peace. Seven years and he never really knew the man.

He put the photograph down and turned around to the desk. Spencer sat at the computer to get the view Derek looked at every day. Next to the computer, there was a small double frame that folded closed held pictures of Fran Morgan and a woman Spencer could only assume was Andria Murdoch, both holding a premature infant, Elaine Morgan. Spencer stared at the photograph.

_"Look at his little widdy, biddy nose."_

_"Aww..."_

_"Don't you want one of these?"_

_"Mmm... I'll stick to practicing."_

He'd lied. Derek had lied when García asked if he wanted children. He already had and lost one. He didn't want to have a child, he wanted the one he lost. Why? Why had he hidden Samantha and Elaine? It didn't make any sense. Why hadn't Derek just told them, told him? Why didn't his best friend trust him? What else didn't he know about Derek?

Sighing, Spencer studied the wedding photo. No wonder Derek had become an expert in obsessional crimes - he'd lost his family to one.

Spencer closed and locked the office when he left, returning to the bullpen and opening his computer. He logged into the FBI databases and typed Samantha Morgan's full name into the search engine. For two hours he sat and read every file he could find. She'd been to the hospital 26 times in 12 years. How had social services not stepped in and taken her from her home? Several reports had been filed for both her and James, but nothing further.

Spencer clicked out of them in disgust and into more recent files. He read through the transcript of the trial, he read newspaper articles, police reports, anything he could find. Samantha's file was up on the screen when his phone rang in his pocket and he jumped, exiting out of the file on instinct, like someone could see over his shoulder.

"Reid," Spencer answered without looking at the screen.

_"Spencer?" _

The tone of Calliope's voice bordered on hysteria and Spencer sat up straighter in the chair. "Sweetheart? What's wrong?"

_"The SUV got hit! He didn't even stop! He didn't even hit his breaks!"_

Her voice was hard to hear over the raucous background noise and Spencer pressed hiss left hand against his ear in an attempt to hear her better. "Are you okay? Calliope? Are you okay?"

He couldn't hear her answer. Spencer gathered his things and headed out of the building as he tried to understand what she was saying. He heard enough to know the accident happened on Pennsylvania and Seventh in Washington and, as soon as he knew that, he was out of the parking lot and onto I-95. Halfway to Washington, the call was lost and Calliope's phone went straight to voice mail when he tried to call back.

"This is Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI," Spencer used his most authoritative voice when he spoke to the 911 dispatcher. "There was an accident on Seventh and Pennsylvania involving a Porsche Cayenne S, license plate number XAU-9943. Who was involved in the crash? Was an ambulance sent?"

The tech on the other end of the line seemed flustered at having the FBI on the line and gave him information she shouldn't have. Three ambulances had been to the scene and gone directly to George Washington University Hospital. That was all she knew. Spencer thanked her and mentally altered his course.

Calliope was okay enough to be able to call him. He had to focus on that.

Emeline.

Had Emeline been in the car?

"Jill?" Spencer practically barked at her in his panic, grasping at the hope that Emeline hasn't in the car. Though, if Emeline was hurt or worse, wouldn't that have been the first thing Calliope said? "Is Emeline with you?"

_"What? No. As far as I know, she's with Callie. They came over for lunch this afternoon, though. Why?"_

"Calliope's phone is going straight to voice mail and I don't know where she is," Spencer didn't want to panic her before he even knew for sure what was going on. "Thanks, Jill."

_"No prob. Keep me updated, okay?"_

When he got to the hospital, the woman at the front desk gave him a room number and Spencer was running down the hallway before she even finished her sentence. In his haste, he took a wrong turn and had to backtrack to find the room. A few seconds away from asking for help, he heard her voice and turned.

"Calliope," Spencer wrapped his arms around her as soon as he saw her. "Thank God."

"Poppy!" Emeline's voice was a shriek and Spencer let go of Calliope to scoop his little girl up off the bed. She clung to his neck and Spencer held her as tight as he could. Across the room, Aaron was holding Jack and sitting next to Haley's sister Jessica. "Ow, Poppy!"

"Sorry, Princess. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?" Emeline started listing places that were sore and Spencer kissed the top of her head.

"The doctor said she and Jack are going to be fine," Calliope put a hand on his arm. "Just to watch them for the next few days. Derek was awesome."

"Derek?" Spencer asked. "Who was driving? What happened?"

"We were going to Matchbox. The kids wanted to drive with Derek, so he took the SUV and I drove his Camaro. Der was in the middle of the intersection when a bright red Mercedes ran the red light. Derek... he, like, he turned the car at the last minute to make it a head-on crash instead of letting the Mercedes hit the side of the SUV," her voice was quiet and got even more so before she spoke again. "Spencer, he saved Eme's life. She was sitting right there, Spencer. Oh, my god, I was so scared."

Spencer nodded, processing everything she'd just said and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders so he was holding both his girls. He couldn't loose them. "Why didn't you pick up your phone?"

"I dropped it. It's not working anymore," Calliope produced a shattered iPhone from her pocket. "I tried to call you from Aaron's phone, but you didn't pick up."

"I didn't realize he was with you. Where's Derek? Is he alright?"

"He hit his head pretty bad," Calliope told him. "He was unconscious behind the wheel. The first ambulance rushed him here. I don't know how he is. No one's told us -"

"Agent Morgan's just woken up," a doctor poked his head into the room and Aaron stood immediately, putting Jack down and assuring him he'd be right back, and followed the doctor out of the room. The team syphoned through Derek's room; Spencer waited until last. He didn't know what to say. He just didn't know.

Standing outside the hospital room, he listened to the tail end of the conversation Calliope and Derek were having. Then he knocked on the door.

"Room for one more?"

"Actually, I was about to take Eme over to Jill's and put her to bed," Calliope took Emeline from where she'd fallen asleep on Derek's chest. "Rest, Der. You're tired."

"García's still out in the waiting room," Spencer gave both of them kisses as they left. "She sent everyone else home. I'll be at Jill's later."

When Calliope was gone, Spencer crossed the room and sat in the visitors chair, staring at his feet because it was the only thing he could think of. He felt awkward sitting in the room with Derek. He wasn't sure if Derek was still angry with him and Derek didn't know that he'd spent the last two hours digging into his personal life. "Hotch said you were okay."

"Doc says I'm gonna be sore, but I'm fine."

"Thank you for protecting Emeline."

"Always."

After twenty minutes of awkward silence, Derek worked his way through the fuzzy channels on the hospital's television a few times and gave up when they got back to Tom and Jerry a fourth time.

"Do you remember the time you asked me if I'd ever crossed the professional boundaries with a victim during a case? It was right after we got back from L.A. with Lila Archer and the stalker case."

"I remember," Spencer nodded, but didn't look up from his shoes. He hated talking about Lila. "But, if you don't mind, I'd rather we not bring up Lila. Especially not around Calliope. It's a sore subject."

Derek gave a half smile and one silent laugh.

"I said no, I had never crossed those lines. I lied to you, Reid. I did. Once. It was back when I was a cop. I was about six months or so out of the Police Academy. Twenty-three years old and greener than grass.

"Her name was Samantha Murdoch,. I was off that day, but CSI was short a tech and I volunteered to do it if they told me what to do, both because I needed the money and because I wanted to make a good impression on my bosses, ya know… going the extra mile and all the stuff.

"October twenty-first, nineteen ninety-nine. I will never forget that day. I went out on a call. A suicide. It was the first suicide I'd seen in any capacity. Tom Murdoch. Sam's father. He committed suicide in their garage – shot himself in the head with a Colt Detective Special. A thirty-eight caliber. Titanium. Sammie was nineteen years old and a freshman at the University of Illinois. Her brother James was sixteen and a sophomore in high school."

"She was nineteen?" Spencer looked up for the first time. He knew that. He'd read that, but hearing Derek say it gave the fact more weight.

"Yes. She was nineteen at the time," Derek kept staring at his hands as he answered Spencer's question and then looked up and straight ahead, like he was seeing into the past. "Something in Sam's eyes. She was so devastated, she was completely destroyed, but she acted all tough. She refused to admit that she was in pain. I couldn't just walk away from her and do nothing. So I gave her my phone number and I told her to call if she needed to talk. Two days later, she called. She was in the garage and couldn't get the blood off the floor."

"They waited two days to clean the blood?"

"I didn't ask. I went over and I cleaned it. Scrubbed the cement. Later, I painted the garage floor so they didn't have to see the stain. Sammie and I… we became friends. Good friends. I... I understood her. She didn't know it, but she understood me too. I never told her about Carl Buford. I didn't want her to think I was - I was weak.

"Tom was a mean son-of-a-bitch. All Sammie and James ever wanted from him was his approval and his love and attention. He manipulated them and he beat them. He told them they were stupid and worthless until they believed it. I wanted to help her, them," Derek fell silent again and Spencer waited.

"I was falling in love with her and I knew it. I also knew something wasn't right. She had a boyfriend. Nick Farese and he was worse than Tom."

"She couldn't get her father's approval, so she tried to get the approval of a man like him," Spencer interjected because he felt the need to say something. The emotion in Derek's voice, hearing his remembrance, changed what Spencer already knew. They were the same facts, but they had life now. They were more personal, they meant more. Spencer didn't know how to respond. "It's very common for women with abusive fathers to fall into a pattern of abusive relationships."

"I tried to get her away from him, but she wouldn't. I finally confronted her when she had his handprint bruised to the back of her neck. We didn't talk for a long time after that, not until she showed up at my apartment at two in the morning. She was bleeding, her face was swollen and she was crying. I knew he was beating her. I didn't know he was raping her.

"I took her to the hospital. They took care of her, did a rape kit. I stayed with her through the entire thing. I held her hand and I promised I'd take care of her, that he'd never hurt her again. I loved her so much and I couldn't even admit it to myself, much less to her. Seeing her in so much pain killed me. I wanted to kill him, I wanted to rip his heart out with my bare hands. But I didn't. I believed in the system," Derek huffed as if the thought were humerous and shook his head. "I didn't kill him. I should have. I got her to press charges instead, we took him to court. I testified. She did as well, but she was terrified. He was sentenced to fourteen years, parole available after seven."

"Her grandfather, George, had cancer and he died a few days before we went to trial. It was almost a blessing in disguise. George was in so much pain. The funeral was the day before Sammie and I were giving our testimonies. After the funeral, Sammie and I went for a walk. She needed to get away from the sadness, even if it were just for a few minutes.

"She kissed me. Hey. Don't look at me like that. She kissed me. But I didn't stop her. I should have, I knew it then and I know it now. But I didn't. I kissed her back. We got into a huge fight, because I said we couldn't do that again. I told her we could not get involved like that. Four months later, we were dating. She went back to school, we kept dating. A year later, she got pregnant. She was 21, I was 25."

"Jeeze…" Spencer exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Yeah. I got her pregnant. I asked her to marry me. At first she said no. She didn't want to get married if the only reason I asked because of the baby. She said she'd rather disgrace her family by being a single mom than be unhappily married. They're Italian. They're big on the disgracing the family thing. I said like hell I was going to let her take my baby away from me. I asked her again a week later, big romantic proposal. The whole nine yards. She was four months pregnant when we got married. And Nick was released from prison.

"I… I was out on patrol one night. October fifteenth. Oh-one. We got dispatched to a car accident. Two cars. When we got there, Keira'd been shot twice, but she was still alive. She said Farese had taken Sammie. I had my hands over the wound, trying to stop the some of bleeding, but she died before the medics got there. Farese had my girls," Derek's voice broke and Spencer had to look away from the anguish on his face.

"It was thirty minutes before we found them. I didn't get to see her. They took her straight to the hospital and she went into surgery. She had an emergency C-section, got the baby out and onto life support. The baby was a girl. Elaine Madison Morgan. She was 34 weeks. She wasn't going to live, we all knew it. I took her off of life support.

"My mom and sisters kept trying to get me to hold her, but I was too scared. I was afraid I'd hurt her. She was so tiny and fragile. My mom held her while she died, not me.

"I wasn't holding her when she died, Reid," Derek's expression was pained. His eyes were twisted shut and his lips were pressed together in a thin line. "The one time she needed me and I wasn't there. I stared at her for three hours after she died. I couldn't hold her, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't hold her, but couldn't let her go. Ellie would be nine years old right now."

Derek fell into silence, like he was preparing himself to tell what came next, and Spencer waited patiently. He knew what came next.

"He beat her with a tire iron. The right side of her head was destroyed. Sammie… My Sammie was gone. She was alive, but gone. They had her on life support, but the damage to her brain was too severe. She was brain dead. The doctors said she might have lived a few days on life support, but not longer than that. And, even if her body were able to survive by some miracle, she would just be a body. She would nev – She would never come back. She'd be a vegetable. So… I-I-I… I pulled the plug. I had them take her off of life support and I held her hand waited for her to die.

Spencer closed his eyes and tried to imagine sitting and watching Emeline and Calliope both die and his stomach knotted and he felt nauseous. He would not be able to do it. And he didn't know how Derek had, but Spencer was sure he hadn't done it well.

"But she didn't. She held on. Don't ask me how or why, I have no idea and neither did the doctors. She held on for a month, I stayed with her, slept on a cot in the room. She opened her eyes October fifteenth. She came home in January. She was so different, the trauma to her brain changed her. She was angry at everything, especially me. She hated me. She left me and filed for divorce and got it through a crooked judge. I never signed any papers. I didn't want to sign any papers. I don't want to be divorced.

"I went undercover, James says I was running. Maybe I was. I went to Detroit, helped take down the Black Mafia Family. Then I went home. Eighteen months. I missed her, them, all of them, I missed them so much. I went back home, I went to the Murdoch's house and James opened the door. Hand me my wallet, Reid."

Derek opened his wallet after Spencer located it in the brown paper bag with his clothing and other personal belongings. From the billfold, Derek removed three red strips of plastic.

"James handed these to me. He handed these to me and said 'We needed you.' and closed the door."

"Hospital bracelets." This, he knew as well. It was in Samantha - Sammie's - file. But seeing the hospital bracelets took it off the screen of his computer. Seeing the hospital bracelets made it real. "Suicide risk? She attempted suicide?"

"Three times. The first one was the day I left for Detroit. I wasn't there when she needed me most. I promised her that I'd always take care of her and I didn't. I didn't take care of her. I failed her. I miss her so much, Reid. I miss her so much."

"I'm sorry, Morgan. I can't imagine that kind of hell."

"I hope you never experience it, Reid. Never take them for granted, kid. It can be taken away."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Emeline was asleep on an air mattress in Ben's nursery at Jill and Steve's house when Spencer got there. Calliope was in the guest room wearing a pair of borrowed pajamas when Spencer finally got there, three hours after he'd left the hospital, leaving Derek with Penelope. He'd need the three hours to think and had ended up sitting in Starbucks until he realized how much time had past and speed to the house.

"I was just about to do that," Calliope admitted when Spencer came into the guest room with Emeline in his arms. He laid her down on the bed next to Calliope and changed into a pair of Steve's sweatpants and white undershirts. Calliope didn't even ask where he'd been when he got into the other side of the bed and settled Emeline between them.

Calliope leaned over Emeline and gave him a kiss. "I love you, Spencer."

"I love you too, Sweetheart."

Long after Calliope had turned out the lights and her breathing evened out as she drifted to sleep, Spencer stayed awake. He loved his girls so much, couldn't imagine anything ever being more important than them or not doing whatever it took to keep them and keep them safe. Derek obviously loved his ex-wife as much as Spencer loved Calliope, so Spencer didn't understand why he had spent the last seven years in Virginia with the BAU instead of Chicago trying to get Sammie back. If Calliope left him... he didn't know what he'd do, but he sure as hell wouldn't be living 700 miles away.

Spencer tried to stop his thoughts as he closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about this anymore. Calliope and Emeline were safe. Emeline's adoption papers were going through and he was marrying Calliope in 212 days and he'd never have to live without them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**BAH. One thing that sucks about parallel stories is you sometimes have to have the same scenes in each story and you're like "BUT I ALREADY WROTE THAT" and you obviously can't change the dialogue because, hi that's supposed to be set, so you're scrounging around trying to re-write the actions that you already liked in the first draft and it's annoying. But this should be the last major duplicate scene for a while and no other one will be this long. But I had to have it in. So, sorry if you read NH and WW.**

**I'm tired. I have to work tomorrow morning. I'm going to bed. LOVE YOU. Night friends~**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it!**

**Love, Thalia**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><em>"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be." – Abraham Maslow<em>

o o o o

4 February, 2011

"Look, I'm sorry I upset you, Brenda," Spencer repeated the words for the 29th time. Over the past hour, he'd been letting Brenda rail at him until she was blue in the face. "But I don't regret what I did. We will have a big, formal wedding, but it'll be on our terms, not following traditions because that's what's expected."

"People expect us to honour traditions," Brenda protested.

"This isn't their wedding. It's our wedding. I'm not suggesting Calliope and I get married outside the Wawa Food Market on Merrimac wearing our pajamas, but I want Calliope to have the wedding of her dreams, even if it upsets you. I'm sorry, Brenda, but this is Calliope's wedding and I want her to love it," Spencer cross his arms over his chest and straightened his back. "When she's flipping through bridal magazines, she doesn't stop on the muted, formal, monotone pictures. She stops on the bright, vibrant ones. That's what she wants and that's what she's getting. If you don't like it, you can pretend, because you _will not_ ruin this for her."

Spencer watched as Brenda's face morphed from emotion to emotion like a multiple exposure photograph. He wasn't bending and she knew it.

"Brenda," Ben leaned against the door jam. Letting out a huff, Brenda stormed from the room, passing Ben without a word, and Spencer's knees nearly gave out beneath him. "I'm proud of you, Spencer. Not many people have stood up to Brenda."

"She just started to like me," Spencer ran a hand over his face. "She's going to kill me."

"Well, I wouldn't go walking down a dark ally with her anytime soon, but I think she'll cool down. I'm proud of you. Callie is too protective of Brenda's feelings," Ben moved to stand next to Spencer, looking out the window over the snow-covered ground spreading out behind the house. "She feels like it's her job to be the perfect grandchild, because her brothers and sister are gone - that she has to give Brenda everything she wants because there's no one else to give it to her."

"It's not her job," Spencer shook his head. "It's not Calliope's job to be Brenda's dream. She needs to feel free to be her own dream. I hate that she hides parts of herself when Brenda's around. It's like Calliope is so afraid of disappointing her that she's willing to give herself up and be someone else just to please Brenda. She wants her approval that much."

"She's always been that way," Ben nodded, resting a hand on Spencer's back the way a father would with his son. The gesture, laced with acceptance and love, felt good; it was one he couldn't remember ever getting from his own father and hadn't realized he wanted until this very second. "I think... we all have at least one person we're weak around. One person we can't say 'no' to. Brenda is Callie's. Michele was mine. I could not say no to her. Michele was special to me and I would have given her anything to make her happy. Calliope is the same way with Brenda - she'll do anything to make Brenda happy."

"I need to make _her_ happy," Spencer looked at Ben. "That's my job, isn't it? To make sure Calliope's happy?"

"No, Spencer," Ben disagreed. "It's your job to support her and defend her and love her and help her see reason and light when she can only see darkness. It's your job to be her partner, Spencer, it's not your job to do everything to make her happy. If you start doing that, you'll end up running around trying to make her happy the same way she runs around trying to make Brenda happy."

Spencer nodded, looking back out the window and losing himself in his thoughts. He didn't notice when Ben's hand left his back or when he turned. Emeline grabbing his legs grabbed his attention and Spencer bent down to scoop his daughter and her doll up into his arms.

"You're cold, Princess," Spencer kissed her round cheek and squeezed her.

"Me and Maman and Uncle Kady and Sasifi were playing in the snow! Firsted, we went to Uncle Kady's and he and Maman talked forever and ever. I thought they were never gonna stop talking, Poppy."

"Yeah? And what were Maman and Uncle Kaden talking about? Were they talking about you and how pretty you are?"

"No, they were talking about when they were little, but they can't be little because they're Maman and Uncle Kady and they're growned ups."

"You know... once, a long, long time ago, Maman was a little girl just like you and and Uncle Kaden was a little boy like Jack and Henry, so was Poppy." Emeline gave him a look like he was talking crazy and Spencer laughing. He walked over to the bookcase and picked up a framed picture of a little girl with wild red hair sitting on top of a horse with Ben sitting behind her. "See? This is Maman when she was your age."

"No, Poppy! That's not Maman," Emeline shook her head vehemently and pointed at another picture, one of the three of them at the Jamestown Beach Park. "That's Maman. She's got the purple bucket."

"Okay," Spencer smiled, kissing her again. "Do you wanna go see if Halina has any kolaczki in the kitchen?"

"Raspberry?" Emeline asked hopefully.

"If you're lucky, Halina might have some raspberry kolaczki."

"Eee does," Calliope mumbled around a mouthful of cookie, a smudge of powdered sugar on her cheek. "Dere rea'y good."

"Oh my God, these are better than any cookie my grandma's ever made," Kaden mumbled his agreement, his mouth equally full in a way that made the siblings look even more alike, held out a plate with more kolaczki.

"Just wait until she makes you a birthday cake in June," Calliope said after she swallowed. "You're gonna die. You have to ask for the red velvet cake with cream cheese icing. You'll be in cake heaven. Especially if you did what I did on my seventh birthday and actually launch yourself into the cake and roll around in it."

"I really hope there's pictures of that."

"I think Grandpa got it on video."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

5 February, 2011

"That was Brianna," Calliope said, hanging up the phone. "Dean's not feeling well and she doesn't want to expose Emeline to whatever it is Dean has. She said it came on all of a sudden, so it's probably viral."

Calliope kicked off her shoes and grabbed her coat to go hang it up in the closet.

"Hold on," Spencer took the coat and iPhone from her hand, going through the contacts in her phone. "I've had this planned way too long. Plus, you need a night out before the exhibit tomorrow. Just relax and not think about it. Because if we stay home, that's all your going to think about and it's going to drive me crazy. What about Jen? Maybe she's free. What's her last name again? It starts with a B, right? Or was it a D?"

"A fourteen-year-old girl on a Saturday night? She's got plans, String Bean. It's fine, we'll just stay in. Maybe tonight's the night Emeline sits through _Fellowship of the Ring_."

"Good luck with that," Spencer rolled his eyes, hitting a contact on the screen and lifting the phone to his ear. "She has yet to make it to the end of _The Little Mermaid."_

"Spencer, don't do this to Jen!" Calliope nearly stamped her foot before climbing over the back of the couch while he took long strides away from her. "It's 5 o'clock! It's not fair and you know how sweet she is, she'll drop whatever she's doing to come sit on Eme. Spencer! Spencer, you hang up that -"

"Jen? Hey, it's Spencer Reid. I'm good, how are you?" Spencer sashayed around the island in the kitchen, leaving Calliope on one side, trying to decide which way to go around. She dove left and Spencer hurried right until he was in the place she'd vacated. "That's great! Yeah, I was wondering if you were free to babysit tonight. Dean's not feeling well so he and Brianne had to cancel."

"Jen! You do _not _have to babysit!" Calliope climbed over the island as she shouted to be heard through the phone. Spencer hurried away and Calliope jumped off the island in an awkward lung that had them both sprawled across the ground a second later. They heard Jen laughing on the other end of the line as they scrambled to get to the phone first, but Calliope had the advantage, as she was lying on top of Spencer's back with him flat on his stomach. "Jennifer!" Calliope gasped into the phone, "you do _not _have to babysit."

_"Ms. Callie, I'd love to babysit. I haven't seen Eme in, like, two weeks! Can Dr. Reid come pick me up?" _

"No, Jen, no. This is where you say, 'Sorry, Ms. Callie, I can't babysit tonight because I'm making a terrible teenage decision and jumping in the back of my 19-year-old boyfriend's 1980 rusted-out, barely-running Camaro and we're heading to Manhattan to get wasted and smoke crack and hope we don't break down on the way there.'"

_"You've been watching Gilmore Girls again haven't you?"_

"No. Yes. It's not my fault - it's a sickness. Emeline turned it on!"

_"Ms. Callie," Jen rolled her eyes. "Send Dr. Reid to pick me up."_

"Fine," Calliope crawled to her feet and ignored the hand Spencer reached towards her. "But I'm ordering you disgustingly greasy pizza with no vegetables and lots of potato chips and soda and cake and over paying you."

"There's no cake in the house," Spencer reminded her, brushing off his khaki pants. "You ate the last slice twenty minutes ago."

"No cake," Calliope amended. "But there is ice cream!"

"We finished that yesterday," Spencer shrugged into his blue wool peacoat.

"Brownies?" She looked at him hopefully. Spencer just raised his eyebrows. "You're right, I forgot. That's why we had to take Perses to the vet on Thursday. We have lots of cough syrup though. You could get totally buzzed."

_"Just send Dr. Reid, Ms. Callie."_

"Ugh, you're giving me nothing here, Jen. At least invite over the biker gang I saw in the Target parking lot this morning. Jen? Jen? She hung up on me." Calliope tossed the phone onto the counter and pushed up on her toes to kiss Spencer.

"I wonder why. I'll be back in twenty and I better not find a biker gang on the couch or cough syrup placed in conspicuous places around the house."

"Stance on the children's Sudafed? ... How about the compressed air in your office? Spencer?" The garage door closed with a bang and Calliope turned to the dog watching her from the couch. "I think that's a no, Pers. You know what else is a no, Pers? Single pawedly eating the three pounds of Godiva chocolate Starbucks Americano triple expresso brownies that Ethel baked for me. I didn't even get one. What have I told you about sharing, Perses? I mean, I feed you ever day. I walk you. I only make you take a bath when you start smelling. I rarely put you in sissy outfits. You get to sleep on the end of the bed. You mostly maintain your manhood... except for the whole testicles thing, but trust me, Pers, _cojones_ are nothing but trouble. Just ask your Uncle Dave. The least you could have done was save me a single brownie."

"Maman... Perses won't talk back, you know," Emeline dragged a blanket into the living room, dropping it into the middle of the floor and pulling pillows off the couch. "What are coneys, Maman?"

"Coneys are those super cool hot dogs, remember? The ones Uncle Steve and Aunt Jill made for you last weekend. It had the chili and the onions and the yellow ketchup," Calliope said, desperate for something to shove into her mouth before she said something else she couldn't - _shouldn't_ - explain to a three year old. "Perses can't have coneys, because they'll make him gassy and it'll smell bad. What kind of pizza do you want for dinner, Princess?"

"Mama's!" Emeline screeched the name of their favourite pizza place, Mama's Pizza and Subs over on Plank Road. Calliope, knowing the answer, already held the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Steph, it's Calliope. No, delivery. Two extra-large pizzas, one house special with extra cheese and the other one a meatball. An order of mozzarella sticks, an order of garlic bread, two fudge brownies, a cheesecake, and tiramisu. No, I'm not feeding the high school's football team! I like having left over pizza for breakfast, sue me. Yes! No, we have drinks. Okay. No, I'll pay cash. Thanks, Steph."

Forty minutes later, Emeline and Jen were building a cushion fort in the living room and Spencer and Calliope were driving down the driveway towards the road. Spencer parked the car in an empty spot in front of The Hobbit Hole. The steps were icy, but they made it up and through the door without incident.

"I can't wait to tell Derek your romantic date is at the Hole," Calliope teased, squeezing his hand. "What are we doing? Filing? Shelf reading and putting the books back in order? Repairing the Dewy Decimal system? I mean, I know how much some of the system bugs you and you've shown me your re-write about a hundred times."

"We are not filing, shelf reading or implementing my system - though, mine does make more sense," Spencer told her, reaching into his pocket.

"Hey!"

"Stop moving," Spencer laughed as he tied her silk scarf over her eyes.

"You know I hate being blind, Spencer," Calliope grumbled, one hand clamped on his jacket and the other groping the air around her.

"It's only for a minute. I won't let you fall."

"Stairs?" Calliopes shuffling foot hit the base of the steps and she balked. "Spencer, no. You're crazy. I'll fall and break something and, if I go down, you're damn well coming with me. Can I just walk up the stairs and then you cover my eyes with your hands or something?"

"I'm not going to let you fall."

"You're out of your mind."

They made it up the stairs with only a few stumbles and she knew they were standing outside of the painting studio based on how many stepped they'd taken from the top of the stairs.

"Something smells good," Calliope said, holding onto the door frame.

"Don't pull off the blindfold until I say," Spencer squeezed her shoulder and went around the room lighting the candles he'd set up earlier that day. He hit the play button on the iHome in the corner and Dexter Gordon's saxophone poured out of the speakers.

"This song kills me every time."

"Okay," Spencer gave the room one more glance before hurrying back to her. He untied the knot, but kept the silk over her eyes. "You ready?"

"Yes!"

"You sure?"

"Spencer!" Calliope pulled the scarf away and her eyes watered. Sniffling, she turned into him and buried her face in his shirt. Spencer wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "It's perfect and I hate you for being perfect."

"You don't have to cry."

"Yes, I do. This is the most romantic thing you've ever done for me," she wailed into his sweater.

Spencer knitted his eyebrows together in confusion. "Not following you to Haiti and adopting a child?"

"No."

"Proposing?"

"Not even close."

"My attempted proposal in August?"

"Please."

"_This_ is our most romantic moment?"

"Giving me Perses is a very close second. String Bean, this is absolutely going up in the bedroom."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

6 February, 2011

This opening night of the latest Scroll and Stylus Inc exhibit was unlike any of the other. Instead of rich art collectors, politicians, family friends and critics, the only people in the Smithsonian were their family, the team, and the families of the victims for which the paintings had been painted. Calliope had sent out invitations to the families and put the ones who had decided to come to the exhibit up in beautiful hotels for the past week and set up the entire week to be a vacation most of them would never dream of affording.

It was a little strange being around the family of people they hadn't been able to save, but more than a few people had come up to members of the team they remembered and thanked them for what closure they managed to give them. Surprisingly, the moments had been less awkward than they had anticipated and had somehow managed to bring some closure to the team on a few cases that had left lingering wounds. Sheila Hawkes, Zoe Hawkes' mother, actually hugged David and thanked him.

"Why does she paint these?" Emily asked, taking a sip of her champaign and looking around the exhibit, spotting John Cooley standing with an empty glass of champaign in front of the painting for their friend Matt. "I mean, they're beautiful. But why?"

Spencer looked around at the exhibit, taking in all the grey-scale paintings and the different, singular points of colour on each canvas. The canvases ranged in sizes and canvas orientation and the largest piece was the centre point of the room. A massive six-by-twenty-five black expanse of space was covered by a milky grey and white black hole mid-creation, centred around a pillowy mass of orange and yellow supernova, while brightly white galaxy's pinpricked the black.

The painting had taken a full year and, by Spencer's best guess, at least sixteen tons of chocolate in it's various forms, to finish. Spencer couldn't look at it without being brought back to the pig farm in Ontario. He remembered the feeling at the farm - like his soul had exploded and his entire being was caving in on itself. There was a lot of pain hidden in the beauty hung on the walls in the rooms of this exhibit and everyone could feel it.

"It's what she has to do. We all deal with the pain of our job in different ways. But Calliope… she's such an emotional person just as she is. The emotions this job brings – she really is with the wrong person," Spencer smiled dotingly as he watched his fiancé talk to two of the gallery's guests, an elderly couple, Conrad and Jane Winmar, as they looked at the painting for the group of victims their daughter, Monica, had been a part of. "This… these paintings… this is what she has to do to be with me and stay herself, to stay sane."

At the word 'sane' being used to describe the passionately joyful, vivacious, and more than mildly insane woman, the team couldn't help but chuckle just loud enough to be heard over the soothing jazz band Calliope had hired. Hearing them, Calliope turned to look at her friends, raised her eyebrows questioningly with a speculative smile, and waved. The team waved back and smiled at her before she returned to the Winmars.

"Ok. You're right – _sane_ is definitely the wrong word. Sane by Calliope standards," he amended, laughing with them and picking up Emeline as she ran across the gallery towards him with Ben following after her at a far more sedate pace. "Hey, Princess Eme."

"Hi, Poppy," Emeline crowed in a loud whisper and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. Spencer smiled and hugged her. "Maman paints pretty."

"She sure does," he agreed as he pulled her thumb from her mouth and shook his head. "Thumb stays out of the mouth, Princess Emeline. We talked about this, remember?" Emeline nodded and tucked her head into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes. Spencer ran his free hand over her back and whispered softly to her, tenderly kissing her forehead. "Getting sleepy, Princess?"

Emeline nodded and snuggled closer into his arms. "When are we going home, Poppy?"

"Grandpa's going to take you home in a little while and Maman and I will be home later tonight, okay?" Spencer kept his voice soft and quiet while his little girl started leaning against him more and more. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he rocked her gently in a rhythm that had become second nature. "We'll come give you kisses when we get home. Promise."

"You're a natural," Dave observed after Emeline had fallen asleep.

"She makes it easy," Spencer smiled. "García, after Deputy Battle shot you, you told Morgan 'One of the last things I said before he shot me was everything happens for a reason. Derek, if I lose faith in that then nothing in my life makes sense.' No matter what, you have to be able to believe that everything happens for a reason. You couldn't do your job if you didn't believe that.

"Calliope – she can't loose her faith that something good can come from terrible things. She watches me – us, really – she watches us do our jobs, waits for us to come back after we've caught one monster and holds on until she has to let go so we can go catch another. If she looses faith that our jobs do good, that there is some seed of good buried in the worst of humanity just waiting for someone to dust it off and make sure it grows, then the tragedy would completely overwhelm her. She has to know, has to remind herself every single day that, no matter what, the world is beautiful and life is good. If she tried to be with me and not paint these, she end up like May Boatwright."

Spencer smiled as Calliope walked up to him and gave him a quick kiss before kissing the forehead of their sleeping daughter. "She's worn out. I tried to get her to take a nap this afternoon, but she wouldn't sleep."

"She's all right," he shook his head. "We'll just have to make sure she gets up on time tomorrow otherwise she won't nap tomorrow either."

"No problem there. She has dance class tomorrow morning."

"Do you want me to take her or are you taking her?"

"Here's a novel idea – why don't we both take her?" Calliope rolled her eyes at him. "You haven't seen her dance yet. Oh. I hear my name being called. I love you."

"Love you too," Spencer kissed her before she turned and walked toward the patrons calling her name.

"Reid, there's one missing," Emily looked around at all the paintings one last time. "I've scoured the entire place and read the pamphlet twice. There's no painting from The Reaper."

"That one's private. It's only for the seven of us."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I'VE BEEN UP FOR FORTY HOURS I'M SO TIRED. I REALLY NEED TO STOP WITH THE CAPS. AND WITH THE CAFFEINE. I'M SO BUZZED RIGHT NOW. I'M NEVER SLEEPING AGAIN. UNTIL I CRASH IN LIKE AN HOUR. ALSO MY PRESENTATION ON KIT PEARSON IS AMAZING AND EVERYONE SHOULD READ ALL OF HER BOOKS. ESPECIALLY AWAKE AND DREAMING BECAUSE IT'S MY FAVOURITE. EXCEPT YOU HAVE TO ORDER THEM ON AMAZON BECAUSE AMERICA IS STUPID. OKAY I'M REALLY DONE NOW.**

**I'M ON EPISODE 122 OF HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER I'VE GOT A SICKNESS SOMEONE TAKE NETFLIX AWAY FROM ME I CAN'T STOP I HAVE TO GET CAUGHT UP ALSO I HAVE LEARNED THAT I'M BASICALLY ROBIN SCHERBATSKY OR HOWEVER THE HECK YOU SPELL HER NAME. I MEAN HONESTLY. WE WERE PANTOMIMING PLAYING WITH CLAY IN ARTS INTEGRATION THIS AFTERNOON AND I TOTALLY PANTOMIMED MY CLAY INTO A HOCKEY NET _A HOCKEY NET_ I MEAN HONESTLY WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. AND TODAY - TODAY! - IT WAS LIKE 54 DEGREES WHEN I LEFT THE HOUSE (THAT'S 12 FOR PEOPLE WHO USE CELSIUS) AND I WAS TOTALLY LIKE 'OMG THIS FEELS SO NIIIIIICE' AND THEN I GOT IN THE CAR AND WAS LIKE 'WHO WAS THAT I'M THE GIRL THAT LOVES IT WHEN IT'S 110 (AKA 43) OUTSIDE WHO AM I' AND THEN I WENT THROUGH THE MICKEY D'S DRIVE THROUGH AND SAID THANK YOU ABOUT 25 TIMES I MEAN REALLY WHO DOES THAT HOW DO YOU WORK 25-ISH THANK YOUS INTO ORDERING, PAYING AND PICKING UP YOUR MCNUGGETS AND NO I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S IN A MCNUGGET. OKAY I KNOW ROBIN DOESN'T APOLOGIZE ALL THE TIME BUT IT'S SO DAMN CANADIAN WHO AM I - OKAY MAYBE THAT LAST BIT WAS JUST THE FACT THAT MUMMY GRATIAE RAISED ME TO BE A RIDICULOUSLY POLITE PERSON. THANK YOU MUMMY I LOVE YOU.**

**OKAY. IT'S BEEN EXACTLY 17 MINUTES SINCE I TOLD MY FRIEND B THAT I WAS GOING TO CRASH FROM MY INSANE CAFFEINE HIGH AND I'M TOTALLY CRASHED RIGHT NOW I THINK I'M DYI**

**Love,**

**Thalia**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><em>"No matter what you've done for yourself or for humanity, if you can't look back on having given love and attention to your own family, what have you really accomplished?" – Elbert Hubbard<em>

o o o o

7 February, 2011

"I have to go, Calliope," Spencer said into the phone as he stood along in the round-table room after the team had gone to collect their go-bags and head to Chicago.

_ "No," Calliope spat, furious. "You have to be at the lawyer's office in three hours."_

"Calliope, I don't have a choice."

_ "Yes, you do. You say, 'No, I'm sorry, guys, I'll have to meet you in Chicago tomorrow morning because I have to go fight for my daughter.'" Calliope put the razor down and loosened her grip on her new phone before she broke it. She glared at her shaving-cream covered leg like it was what angered her._

"This unsub is abducting eighteen-year-old girls. I have to go."

_ "We need you, Spencer. UNICEF is trying to take away your daughter!"_

"Not right this second. It's not even a meeting with UNICEF. It's just the lawyer."

_ "Just the lawyer?" Calliope repeated his words. "Just the lawyer? I'm sorry. I'm confused. Are we even talking about the same thing? Because it sounds like you're talking about some dinner you can't make it to while I'm talking about the fact that, an hour ago, two people from UNICEF paid me a lovely visit with a stack of papers halting Emeline's adoption, saying that it's breaking international law. They want to send our baby back to Haiti, Spencer!"_

"Calliope, they can't take Emeline. They can't stop the adoption. We're not adopting her from an orphanage. We're adopting her from her legal guardian. They're only here because of the car accident."

_ "That doesn't matter! Spencer! You have to be there."_

"You know what the unsub's doing to these girls?"

_ "I don't want to know."_

"He's kidnapping them, torturing them, starving them, raping and then crucifying them, Calliope. Then he's leaving them on the doorsteps of a -"

_ "SPENCER, STOP IT!" Calliope screeched into the phone. "I don't want to know. It's terrible, I understand that. But the rest of the team is there and they can handle it just fine until you get there."_

"I have responsibilities to this team."

_ "You have responsibilities to this family, Spencer." Calliope seethed. "What am I supposed to tell Emeline? 'I'm sorry, Princess, but Daddy was too busy to make sure you stayed here with us instead of getting shipped back to a third world country.'"_

"That's not fair, Calliope."

_ "Not fair? Not fair, Spencer? Are you serious? I've never asked you to choose between me and the team. Not one single time and the one time I ask you to stay home, just for a goddamned day, and you can't. I have let you off the hook for everything you've missed, but I will not let you off the hook for this. I will _never_ let you off the hook for this. There will always be people who need saving, but right now your daughter needs you. I need you, Spencer Reid. This one time, I need you to stay home."_

"Calliope, please -"

_ "Forget it, Spencer!"_

The click of the line sounded loudly in his ear and Spencer stared at the painting now hanging in the round table room. The black and white painting almost hurt his soul to look at, but it so well represented everything they saw in this room. The forest was dead. Every tree blackened and burnt without a single dead leaf left clinging to the scorched branches. In the very centre of the painting, at the bottom of the canvas, came the only spot of colour. A tiny oak seedling in vivid green was being uncovered by a faceless figure kneeling in the ashes, the only life left in the scene, the only hope.

It had been Calliope's painting for The Reaper, the painting that was only for them. Looking at it now, his guilt doubled and he headed into the bullpen slowly, feeling like the worst person in the entire world. Taking his go-bag from beneath his desk, he fidgeted with the tie that suddenly felt like it was strangling him. The framed photograph of Calliope and Emeline smiled at him from his desk and Spencer's stomach knotted so tightly not even hair could have passed through. He opened his mouth to tell Hotch that he couldn't go, that he'd meet them in tomorrow, but not on the team was there when he looked up.

"Dr. Reid," Strauss' condescending voice wafted through the bullpen. "Your team is already on the plane."

Her tone told him quite clearly that he was still treading in dangerous waters, though he was never quite sure what she wanted him to do about any of the media attention, and Spencer just nodded, throwing his bag over his shoulder and scurrying from the room. He fought with himself the entire way to the plane and climbed the stairs with feet like cement blocks. He sat down silently, without looking at any of his teammates, and fasted his seatbelt for takeoff.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Okay, Princess, time to go," Calliope picked Emeline up off the couch and tugged her Tinker Bell themed tuque down lower over her forehead. She'd waited for Spencer as long as she could. He obviously wasn't coming. He had chosen his job over his family and that sent a spiral of raging fury through every atom of her being. Calliope checked Emeline's mittens and shoes, making sure her coat was zippered all the way up, trying to keep her hands from shaking in her anger, before making her way to the garage.

"Maman, where's Poppy?"

"He's on a plane, Eme," her voice sounded strained and her forced smile didn't meet her eyes.

"Is he coming to Mr. Rotter's?"

"No, Princess. It's just you and me and Aunt Jill at Mr. Rotter's - Rotners!" Calliope clipped her into her carseat and closed the door, getting into the driver's side with a shiver. "Cold outside, isn't it, Eme?"

"Why isn't Poppy coming?"

"Because he has to go with Uncle Derek and save people." The words were bitter in her ears and Calliope hoped Emeline hadn't noticed.

"Maman?"

"Yes, Baby?" Calliope pulled out of the driveway slowly and waited while the garage closed behind them.

"Do I have to go back to Haiti like they said?"

"Absolutely not, Eme. Not unless you want to," Calliope said the words with suppressed fear. The thought that Emeline might decide she wanted to return to Haiti and her grandmother haunted her nightmares. Chanté Noel only agreed to the adoption because it was what Emeline had wanted. If Emeline decided she wanted to go back to Haiti, Chanté would take her granddaughter back without a single backwards glance. "Is that something you want, Princess?"

Emeline thought hard for a long time as they sat in the idling SUV and Calliope felt her stomach knot. How could Spencer be anywhere but here right now? Right now, when she needed so badly for him to take her hand and tell her everything would be alright? After what felt to Calliope like an eternity, Emeline shook her head. "I want to stay with you and Poppy."

Calliope swelled with relief and turned the car, driving out onto the dirt road that would lead to Lee Drive. "That's good, because we want you to stay with us. I can't imagine losing my precious princess."

"Can we go see Gogo soon?" Emetine asked, hugging her Minnie Mouse doll.

"If you'd like. We can go see your grandmother." Calliope felt the knot return to her throat. What if she saw Chanté and decided she wanted to stay in Haiti? With an angry glare at the empty seat next to her, Calliope thought of Spencer. She needed him and he wasn't here. The closer to Washington they drove, the hotter Calliope's anger burned.

They pulled into Jill's driveway an hour after they left and Calliope honked the horn. Two minutes later, Jill appeared with Ben tucked into his carseat. She waved and then turned to lock the door behind her.

""Hey, Callie. Hey, Eme," Jill smiled as she settled the car seat in the back beside Emeline.

"Hi, Aunt Jill!" Emeline crowed happily, excited to see Jill and Ben. "Is Benny asleep?"

"No, he's awake," Jill told her. "He might fall asleep while we drive, though. You going to watch out for him?"

"Yes!" Emeline's chest puffed out and she smiled. "I'll take care of Baby Benny."

"That's a good girl," Jill reached across to hand Emeline a plastic-wrapped cookie from the diaper bag she'd just settled onto the floor.

"Is it raisin?" Emeline asked, her eyes big.

"Oatmeal raisin, just like you like."

Emeline shredded the saran wrap, letting the pieces fall to the floor, and shoved far too much of the cookie in her mouth at a time. She was half done with the treat before Calliope had even pulled out of the driveway.

"Smaller bites, Princess. You'll choke and Maman can't quite remember the Heimlich," Calliope glanced at Emeline through the rearview mirror with an amused smile. "You always get spoiled when we see Aunt Jill, don't you? Maman can't bake to save her life. It's the barren land of Chips-A-Hoy and Milanos at our house."

"I like Manos," Emeline mumbled around the last of the cookie stuffed in her mouth.

"Is Spencer meeting us at the lawyers?" Jill asked as they drove through the rain.

"No. He's going to Chicago."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"You okay, Reid?" Rossi asked as they descended into Chicago. Most of of team had been watching Morgan, who had spent most of the flight lost in his own thoughts, his eyes dark and brooding as he twisted the gold ring around and around his finger. Morgan had spoken, though, adding to the conversation occasional. Reid, on the other had, had said nothing since they walked onto the plane. He'd sat listening and looking out the window, but hadn't spoken a word. Which was why Rossi had been watching Reid. "You were almost as spaced out as Morgan."

"Yeah," Reid said, nearly jumping at out his chair at being directly addressed. He readjusted the seatbelt where it had cut into his stomach at the sudden jolt. "I'm fine. Completely fine. Nothing's wrong."

"Right. And I'm a monkey's uncle," Rossi rolled his eyes. "What's on your mind, Reid?"

"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to go home."

"What grievous error have you made this time?" Rossi grinned and waited.

"Calliope's at the adoption lawyer's office right now. UNICEF representatives showed up at the house today and scared her with threats about taking Emeline," Reid rubbed the back of his head and looked up to see Rossi's grin vanishing. "She wanted me to stay and go with her."

"You should have."

"I know," Reid leaned his head back and shut his eyes. "I should have stayed. The people from UNICEF said everything right in front of Eme. She must be terrified and I'm not there because I chose to be here."

"Why did you come with us? Why didn't you stay with them?" Rossi pressed him, concern creasing his face.

"I have a responsibility to this team, just like the rest of you. The threats from UNICEF are empty. They cannot interfere with this sort of adoption." Reid grimaced at his own explanation. Saying it now sounded stupid and trivial, no matter the fact that his words were true. "If Emeline were an orphan in an orphanage, UNICEF could take her from us. But we're adopting her from Chanté, from her legal guardian and UNICEF can make all the threats they want to, but they can't act upon any of them. If the threat were real, I would have stayed."

"It doesn't matter if the threat is real, Reid," Rossi pointed out. "Callie was scared. People were threatening to take away her little girl. It doesn't matter if the threat is real. The fear is real and the fear is all that matters."

"I know, I know." Reid opened his eyes and sighed. "I should have stayed. I know I should have stayed."

"You have a responsibility to your job the same way everyone does, but your family is more important. Reid, if you lose them, none of this means anything. If you lose them, you'll spend the rest of your life hating yourself."

"Morgan said the same thing." Reid looked out the window. "When he told me about his family, he said that same thing. 'Never take them for granted, kid. It can be taken away.'"

"Morgan was right. I've lost three wives because of this job, Reid. Hotch has lost one. You have to be the one to make it. Don't let this job take away your life." Rossi's voice was quiet and serious as he studied the young man. "This jobs does a lot of good and saves a lot of people, but it's not worth giving up your family for."

"She's going to kill me when I get home."

"I wouldn't blame her," Rossi let out a humourless chuckle. "Personally, I wouldn't go back into that house without a helmet."

"I don't think a helmet will protect me much." Reid shrugged, looking down at his hands. "She's going to kill me no matter what."

"That'll look good in the papers," Seaver grinned as she turned around in her seat. "'FBI Profiler Murdered by Heiress Fiancée.' It'd sell out in two seconds, but I don't think Strauss would be to happy."

Reid nodded noncommittally, his mind still lost in his own thoughts.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Miss Sellers! Miss Sellers!"

The shout came as soon as the heel of Calliope's wedge hit the pavement. Calliope shielded Emeline's face as two reporters came hurrying up from where they were waiting outside the lawyer's office. Calliope steadily refused to look up as she carefully watched the icy steps to see where she placed her feet.

"Miss Sellers, we heard that UNICEF is trying to take away your daughter. Is that true?"

"UNICEF does not have the power to stop an adoption from the child's legal guardian," Calliope stated calmly, the lawyer's words ringing in her ears. She shifted Emeline in her arms and making sure her face remained obscured.

"Do you think a judge would find you an unfit parent after the car crash?"

"The car crash was caused by the man driving the Mercedes." Again, Calliope kept her voice formal and toneless, wondering again how and why celebrities chose this life. "We were not at fault, nor could we have prevented it."

"You weren't driving your car at the time of the crash, correct?"

"I believe that's a matter of public record."

"FBI Agent Derek Morgan was driving the car at the time of the crash?"

Calliope didn't respond as she and Jill reached the bottom step and began walking towards the parked SUV.

"What was Agent Morgan doing driving the car?"

"It sounds like you've read the police report," Calliope gave the young man a blank look that could not possibly betray an emotion. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Was Agent Morgan responsible for the accident?"

"No, Agent Morgan's quick thinking put himself in danger rather than the two children in the backseat," Calliope began digging the keys from her pocket.

"Are you having an affair with Agent Morgan?" The question was brazen and Calliope stared before answering.

"No, I am not. I was not the first time it was insinuated, nor the second or third time. He is a friend who works with my fiancé."

The next question caught her off her guard and Calliope nearly dropped Emeline.

"Rumour says that Emeline Noel is actually your biological child and the Agent Morgan is the father. Is there any truth to that?"

"We've addressed this several times. Emeline's biological parents are two Haitians, Alain and Flore Noel. Flore died in of illness several years ago, Alain in the earthquake. Dr. Reid and I are adopting her from her grandmother."

Calliope beeped the SUV's door open and ignored the rest of the questions being thrown at her as she buckled Emeline into her carseat. Giving a quick kiss to the forehead of the littler girl who looked to be on the verge of tears. Closing the door protectively on her daughter, Calliope opened her own door and climbed in. She tried to close the door after her, but one of the reporters had wedged himself in between the door and the side of the car.

"Miss Sellers, do you think it's right to take the child from her grandmother?"

"Remove yourself from my way."

"Agent Morgan seems to always be -"

"Get out of my way."

"- could be the girl's -"

Calliope turned the key in the ignition, hit the gas and closed the door as they eased out away from the curb. Her hands shook slightly and her teeth clenched painfully all the way from the lawyers to Jill's house and no one in the car spoke until they were in the house. Calliope sat down on the couch and cradled Emeline into her lap. Emeline burst into tears and Calliope rubbed her back soothingly, rocking her and whispering to her.

"I miss Papa," Emeline sobbed.

"I know, Princess. He's your Papa. It's okay for you to miss him."

"I want Papa back," Emeline's tears dropped to Calliope's cashmere sweater. Calliope let her cry and ran her hand over the girls' hair.

"I know. You had a good Papa, Eme. One who loved you very, very much."

"I want Poppy too," Emeline sniffed and fisted her had in Calliope's sweater, trying to figure out emotions too complex for a three year old.

"You are always going to have Poppy, Emeline. Always, always."

"Why isn't he here?"

"He couldn't be, Eme," Calliope lied. No matter how angry she was with Spencer right now, she never wanted Emeline to think that Spencer would choose something over her, though that was exactly what he'd done. "Poppy was already in the air flying to Chicago."

"I want to talk to Poppy," Emeline begged, looking up with a tear-streaked face.

"Okay, Baby. I'll call Poppy." Calliope reached to her purse and took her phone, looking at the clock to see if he'd be on the ground by now. "He should have landed, Princess. Let's see."

Emeline watched expectantly as Calliope hit Spencer's name and held the phone to her ear. How could she have this conversation with Spencer when Emeline was sitting right there? Her stomach knotted as the phone rang in her ear and Jill sat down in the chair across the room, having finally gotten Ben to lie down. She was about to hang up when Spencer's voice answered.

_ "Sweetheart?"_

"We met some reporters coming from the lawyer's office," Calliope said, desperately trying to keep her voice from betraying her anger in front of Emeline. "Eme's upset and she wants to talk to you. Can you talk?"

_ "Of course. Let me speak to her."_

Calliope held the phone out to Emeline, who took it eagerly, her voice still tearful and needy. "Poppy? Poppy, when are you coming home? I miss you."

Calliope could hear Spencer talking to Emeline and she could feel Jill's eyes on her as her friend worked on the blue and green socks she knitted for Ben. Spencer's voice was soft and gentle and supportive to Emeline, everything he hadn't been when they'd spoken earlier that day. Calliope kept rubbing Emeline's back and trying to keep herself calm.

"I don't want to go back to Haiti, Poppy."

_"You don't have to go back to Haiti, Eme. I promise."_

"Will you be home to tuck me in?" Emeline squeezed Calliope, trying to bury into her chest as she looked for the physical comfort she wanted from Spencer.

_ "No, Princess. I'm sorry. But I'll be home as soon as I can."_

Emeline started crying and Calliope took the phone from her. "We need you Spencer."

_ "I'll be home tomorrow, I promise. No matter what, I'll be home tomorrow."_

"Tomorrow isn't now,"

_ "Tomorrow is the best I can do."_

"Tomorrow isn't good enough."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I know it's been a bazillion years and I apologize, but sometimes we have to be responsible and choose to do things we have to do, like work and school, even when we'd rather be doing something else. That's where I was until about mid-December. School took up 80% of my time and then work another 17% and then that last 3% was usually spend sleeping or in a trance of "uhhhhh..." until Mum was like, "Thal... Go to bed." But my hard work paid off in 3 A's, 2 A-'s and one B (Darn that Theology!), giving me a 3.7 cumulative GPA and getting me onto the Dean's List. Yay! Not as good as my bff Ren, but, hey, we can't all be a smarty pants like her. I'm determined to get a 4.00 next semester, though. I will do it!**

**After finals, though, I was just so burnt out. I went to work, I came home and I let myself drown in Middle Earth. Quite literally. I was drowning in Hobbit feels. The Coast Guard was called. They had to fish me out, give me mouth to mouth. I almost died. Both chapter 10s of WW and NH's were left is just angsty places that I didn't have the energy or drive to finish them. But I'm feeling more rested now and I finally got it done.**

**Long story short, I'm sorry this took forever, but I had to be mindful of what was more important that writing (as if anything's more important than writing!)**

**ON TO FUN STUFF. And I won't talk about The Hobbit, because then I won't stop.**

**THE NHL IS FUCKING BACK. HELL YEAH! UGH. I missed it SO DAMN MUCH. Now my life will be split like this: School 77%, work 17%, hockey 5%, sleep 1%. And I can tell you right now that hockey will bleed over into school and work time. Like... listening to/following games while I'm at work and watching games while I finish my homework. I GET TO GO BACK TO MY LIFE OF "OH MY GOD, I SHOULD HAVE GONE TO SLEEP INSTEAD OF STAYING UP UNTIL 12:30 TO WATCH THAT GAME" AND I'M GOING TO LOVE EVERY SECOND OF IT.**

**But because it's a shortened season, the teams are only playing teams within their conference. Which is shit. Because that means my beloved Sami Salo, who move to the Tampa Bay Lightning this off-season in the worst player move in the history of ever, is now in the Eastern Conference instead of the Western Conference LIKE HE SHOULD BE BECAUSE HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE A GODDAMNED CANUCK, GILLIS, FUCK YOU. And Dallas is in the Western Conference, so the Lightning will not be coming to Dallas to play, which foils my plans to see Salo play FOR THE THIRD SEASON IN A ROW. THE HOCKEY GODS MUST HATE ME. Anyways, I'll still be going up to Dallas to see the Canucks play, though. The guy they got to replace Salo (sobs) is Jason Garrison and I really want to hate him on principle, but he's such a great guy and he and Manny Malhotra and the Canucks' mascot Fin walked in the Vancouver Gay Pride Parade last summer and that made me fall in love with him (damn him for being a good person). (P.S. That was the first time a professional sports club was officially represented at a LGBT event, holla.) And Garrison just has such a lovely beard and anyone who knows me knows I'm a sucker for a good beard. I don't think I can hate this usurper, guys. I don't think I can do it.**

**ALSO WE OWN A HOUSE NOW YAYAYAYAY. We move in on the 26th of this month. Technically, we have the house on the 15th, but they previous owners had three cats and I'm deathly allergic to cats. 15 minutes in my aunts house - the cleanest place on the face of the earth - and I'm breaking out in hives and having trouble breathing. Which is really weird because I visited Jen this past summer and had zero reaction to her four cats despite spending hours around them. Weird. Anyways! Because of the cats, we have to get the AC ducts all cleaned out and the carpets cleaned. Then our movers, Alex and George, only work on the weekends, so we have to wait until the following weekend, the 26th to get them to move us. And then the following week, they're moving the storage units in. I'm so excited, guys. You can't even imagine.**

**Okay. I'm gonna go now. LOVE YOU LOADS AND TOADS. **

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it, and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><em>"The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together." - Erma Bombeck<em>

o o o o

7 February, 2011

"Calliope is going to kill me," Reid said, pocketing the phone and looking up at the ceiling as Hotch and Seaver looked through manilla folders of the past victims.

"You're going home tomorrow," Hotch replied without looking up from the paper he was busy reading. "She'll be alright until then."

"Emeline needs me, Hotch."

"Emeline has her mother and her grandparents," Seaver smiled at him reassuringly. "She'll be alright for one night. You'll be there for her tomorrow."

"She needs me now," Reid whispered, more to himself than to either of them. A deep, painful guilt tore at his chest as Emeline's crying rang through him. He'd promised himself that he would be a good father to Emeline, so what the hell was he doing here, putting his job in front of his family, in front of his daughter. He should be finding the soonest flight back to Fredericksburg. Instead, he was sitting in front of a pile of manilla folders.

Maybe it was because he kept seeing Emeline's sweet face instead of the victims. These girls... they were someone elses' daughters. Some other father was feeling the same pain he would feel if anything happened to his Emeline. How could he see their pain, understand it, and do nothing?

But, then, how could he leave his own daughter, crying and scared, to protect someone else's?

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Shhhh, Princess, it's okay," Calliope stroked Emeline's back as they continued walking around and around Jill and Steve's house. Emeline had been crying since speaking to Spencer and the tears showed no signs of lessening any time soon. "It's okay, Eme. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"I want my Poppy!" she wailed, burying her face into Calliope's neck and Calliope kissed the top of her head. "I want my Poppy! I w-want my Pooooo-ppy!"

"I know, Eme. I know you want Poppy. I'm so sorry, Princess. I'm so, so sorry." She felt helpless. Helpless and furious and terrified and bitter and abandoned and very, very alone.

"Why won't Poppy come home?"

"He has to be with Uncle Derek. But he'll be home as soon as he possibly can. Poppy said he'd be home tomorrow," Calliope rocked Emeline back and forth, hoping that eventually she'd cry herself to sleep.

"I want him noooooow."

"I know, I know," Calliope's rubbed circles in her back. The sobbing and begging for Spencer continued for an hour before Emeline finally lay limply in her arms. Calliope tucked Emeline into the bed in the guest room. She clicked the baby monitor on and, taking the second half of the monitor with her, quietly backed out of the bedroom.

"What's going on, Callie?" Jill asked when Calliope came into the kitchen and went immediately to the Keurig. "Where's Spencer?'

"Spencer's in Chicago," Calliope spat, her anger finally surging over now that Emeline was asleep and she slammed the mug down on the counter. "Because his job is too fucking important to miss one day for us. All she wants his her poppy and he choose work over her! I can't tell her that! All I can do is hold her and excuse his absence like it's totally okay that he abandoned us for a job. That's his little girl and he doesn't care that she needs him. What am I supposed to do, Jen? How am I supposed to do this without him?"

"I don't know, Callie. I agree with you. He should be here," Jill nodded, moving from the couch to the kitchen table and pulled an aluminum foil covered baking tin from the centre of the table. She pulled the foil off the tin and took the knife sitting inside to cut two hulking slices of chocolate chip banana bread from the half-gone loaf. "Bring me plates, please, Sis. Thanks."

"Do you want coffee?"

"Thanks."

The two sat across from the table from each other, their coffee and banana bread in front of them. The air was heavy with Calliope's pent up frustration and she glared furiously at the coffee as if it was what offended her.

"I don't understand why he went," Calliope sighed, mushing her bread with her fork as she turned it into a flat pancake. "He knew this was important to me. he knew I needed him to stay here today. I've never asked him to stay, Jill. Never. I ask him one time and He couldn't stay."

"Are you more angry at him not being with you and Emeline or leaving when you asked him not to?" Jill gently pulled her fork from her fingers to stop her mutilation of the already destroyed bread.

"Why can't I be angry about both?" Calliope asked, picking up her mug and inhaling the scent of Gloria Jean's Butter Toffee Coffee.

"That used to be bread, ya know..." Jill set the utensil far away from her.

"Well, let me toast it and it'll be mashed banana toast."

"I'm so not giving you anything with a sharp edge right now. And I didn't say you couldn't be angry about both. What are you _most_ angry about?"

"Leaving when I practically begged him not to," Calliope answered after thinking about it for a moment, poking the smushed food with her finger. "It's like my feelings meant nothing."

"Your feelings don't mean nothing," Jill shook her head and reached for Calliope's hand. "And he should be here for this. You have to stop making excuses for him. I'm not saying you should go tell Eme that Spencer choose work over you two, but you completely excused his absence to Mammy and Grandpa. Don't. He's a grown man who's responsible for his choices and he needs to live with them. He left. He's responsible for that. If he thinks it's okay to leave, then he damn well better accept what comes when he gets home. And that includes Mammy going apeshit."

Calliope took a breath and nodded. "You're right," she nodded again. "I shouldn't protect him from Mammy. He knows what he's doing."

A hurried, anxious knock came at the door and Jill squeezed Calliope's hand again before rising to answer. Calliope stayed at the table, staring into her coffee as she tried to focus her thoughts. She barely even noticed Kaden coming in and leaning over to hug her tightly.

"Kad," she whispered and reached up to hold the arm that circled her. She'd forgotten him. She sat here thinking how much she wished Eli or Isaac or Derek were here to be her brother and hug her and she'd forgotten Kaden. She'd forgotten she had a brother - a real flesh and blood brother who'd loved her all her life.

"Callie, are you okay?"

Calliope started to nod on instinct, but stopped. She wasn't okay and she didn't have to pretend she was. She shook her head and clung to her brother. "Who told you I was here?"

"Ben called me. He told me what happened. I came as soon as I could," Kaden squeezed her. "What happened? Where's Eme? Is she okay?"

The whole story came tumbling out again and Kaden let her ramble as long as she needed. Just like Jill, Kaden affirmed that she had every right to be furious with Spencer and that she'd done right in the way she dealt with the photographers.

"As long as you didn't actually run the idiot over," Kaden said with a rueful smile.

"He would have deserved it," Calliope grumbled and Kaden laughed.

"He probably would, but bodily harm via automobile is still illegal no matter how much they deserve it."

"We should change that," Calliope said with a smile. "I wanna be like Stephanie Plum and just run the jackass over with my dad's Buick and break his leg."

"I don't think Dad ever had a Buick."

"Okay, then I'll run him over with Dad's 1982 Porsche 911 SC Targa."

"First, that would probably ruin the car and two, that'd go over great with the press," Kaden grinned, his hazel eyes bright with laughter. "I'm sure Brenda would just be thrilled through the roof to bail you out of jail."

"Oh yeah," Jill let out a bark of laughter. "I can just see Mammy down at a police station in her fur and pearls. Oh my God, please, Callie. Go get arrested. I have to see this."

"I am not getting arrested just for your sick pleasure," Calliope informed her tartly. "If I get arrested, it's gonna be for something worthwhile, damn it."

"Okay. Just give me a heads up when you're planning it so I can get to the station before Mammy," Jill nodded. "Ya know, just jot me a text. 'Hey, I'm in the middle of robbing a bank, meet me at the police station in fifteen.'"

"If I can send that lengthy a text while robbing a bank, I'm not doing it right," Calliope deadpanned and Kaden snorted into his coffee.

"Pre-type it," Kaden suggested. "Then you can just hit send as you walk in, guns blazing."

"I could never be Stephanie Plum," Calliope said glumly and Kaden and Jill just smirked at each other.

"No," Jill shook her head, "because you never set things on fire, much less on a regular basis."

"I have never once blown up a car," Calliope pointed out.

"You just said that like it's a challenge," Kaden laughed. "Which one are you planning on trying out? The Porsche or the Aston Martin?"

"You attempt to blow up your kitchen at least three times a week."

"That's not the same as a car. It's much easier to blow up your kitchen. All that gas stuff and the oven and food in the oven and it's just a death trap."

"It doesn't help that you can't fry eggs without causing a grease fire."

"Eggs are tricksy devils."

"Most people have no problem with eggs," Kaden reminded her and Calliope very maturely stuck her tongue out at him.

"You're the Stephanie Plum of kitchens," Jill told her authoritatively and Calliope rolled her eyes, giving Jill the same response she'd bestowed upon Kaden. "Except you have no fear of guns and the only thing in your cookie car is your stash of Pop-Tarts you think no one knows about."

"My stash of Pop-Tarts is not in the cookie jar, thank you very much. Hamentaschen is in the cookie jar."

"You should really refrigerate those."

"If I'm Stephanie, does that make you Lula?" Calliope cocked her head to the side with an impish smile.

"No," Jill said seriously. "I never carry pounds of cooked bacon in my purse."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer couldn't concentrate. It was growing on five o'clock and he was actively counting the hours down to when his flight left at one the next afternoon. Every flight before one was full. Right now, everything seemed to be swirling around him and as hard as he tried to focus his thoughts on the case, they continually flitted back to Calliope's furious words as they attacked him like little birds after a cob of corn.

_"Tomorrow isn't good enough."_

They burned like acid against his soul. He wasn't good enough. What he could do wasn't good enough. Hadn't Brenda told him over and over that he was not and would never be good enough for Calliope? Hadn't she told him he was beneath her? He'd thought she was wrong, but she was right. He'd failed Calliope. He'd failed his daughter. He was nothing; he was as bad as his own father. Leaving when he was needed.

But he hadn't left really, had he? He was coming back. He was coming back in less than twenty-four hours. He'd be home holding Emeline in less than a day. Was his absence for that brief period of time really that bad? Emeline's crying came back to him and he withered, shoulder curling inward and his self worth shattering.

He'd made a mistake, but what did she want from him? He was human, he made mistakes and he was trying his hardest to rectify this one. But what was he supposed to do? Zap himself home?

And what would she have done if Strauss was telling her to get on a plane? Well, okay. Calliope probably would have told Strauss to shove it and jump off a cliff in an extremely explicit way and then stormed out, slamming the glass door so hard it shattered. Calliope would never have gotten on the plane.

So, maybe Calliope was braver than he was - she was. He knew that. Everyone knew that. She never let anyone push her around and she always put her family first. No wonder she was furious with him. He must seem like a pathetic, spineless worm to her right now.

"Hotch, I'll be right back," Spencer stood and Hotch nodded absently. As he walked through the station, he fished his phone from his pocket and quickly tapped in Calliope's number. It was quicker to punch it in than look through his contacts for her name. The phone rang in his ear as he stepped into the men's room.

"_Hello?" Calliope picked up the phone without looking to see who was calling._

"Calliope? It's Spencer." Spencer took a deep breath.

"_Hello."_

"How's Eme?"

"_She's fine," Calliope knew her voice was cold, but she couldn't change it. No matter the way her siblings were able to make her laugh or take her mind away from the day's events, she was still too angry to do anything to make her tone towards Spencer warmer. Nor did she even want to. "We're watching a hockey game and Steve's teaching her about Pavel Dacksuit."_

"_Datsyuk," Jill rolled her eyes as she corrected her._

"_Him too," Calliope stuck her tongue out at Jill._

Spencer felt himself hollow out even further. He should be there. He heard Emeline laugh in the background and shout for Uncle Kaden. Kaden was there. _Kaden_ was there. Kaden was there and he wasn't. Five months and Kaden was already a better brother to Calliope than Spencer was a boyfriend in two and a half years. But Kaden had something to prove, Spencer told himself. Spencer didn't have to prove himself to Calliope anymore. He _shouldn't_ have to prove himself to Calliope anymore.

"I'll be home soon," Spencer said, more to himself than to Calliope.

"_Yes. Tomorrow."_

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," Spencer looked at the ground, studying his scuffed Chuck Taylors.

"_You shouldn't be sorry. You should be here."_

"I know, alright?" Spencer snapped at her. "Don't you think I feel like shit already?"

"_I'll be right back," Calliope told Jill and she stood, walking towards the front door and stepping out onto the porch. She curled her shoulders against the cold and huddled into Jill's Red Wing's sweater. "Don't you think I feel abandoned? You let me go into that all by myself. You left."_

"I'm sorry, okay? I screwed up. I know that. There's nothing I can do to change the fact that I screwed up except come home tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow isn't good enough, Spencer. We needed you today," Calliope was shouting now, but she couldn't stop. She'd held the anger in since this morning and it now it was spilling over. "We needed you today. We needed you at the lawyers, we needed you outside the lawyers, we needed you at home, we need you now. I need you, Spencer. I'm not supposed to have to do this alone! I can't do this alone."_

"I'm sorry, Calliope!" Spencer shouted back, his own anger rising to match hers. He'd been crucifying himself all day, he didn't need her help doing it. "I don't know what you what me to do. I've done everything I could to get back there today, but I couldn't find a flight that wasn't booked or canceled."

"_You could have chartered a flight."_

Spencer blinked.

"I didn't think of that," he admitted, feeling stupid for not thinking of something she had. He was supposed to be the genius.

"_You're supposed to be the genius."_

The dig flared his cooling temper and he dug back. "Well, I'm sorry I didn't grow up in Cesar's Palace. I grew up actually having to worry about money instead of using it for wallpaper. Just throwing away ten thousand dollars on a private jet at the last minute doesn't naturally occur to me as an option."

"_I didn't realize that coming home when we need you would be throwing away money, my mistake. I thought your daughter was more important to you than money. I thought _I _was more important. I won't make that mistake again."_

"It wasn't about money!" Spencer felt his migraine grow and he closed his eyes against the sun reflecting off the fresh snow. He swore loudly and a mother covered her son's ears and yelled for him to watch his fucking mouth. "What do you want me to say? Because obviously whatever the hell I'll ever say is wrong."

"_I don't want you to _say _anything," Calliope snapped. "I want you to be here. I want you to be a man and choose your family over your job when the choice is about as obvious as a moose in a Washington."_

The phone beeped in Spencer's ear when Calliope hung up on him and Spencer slipped the cellphone back into his pocket.

"Where the hell did she get the moose from?" Spencer mumbled, massaging his temples.

"Hey, kid, you okay?" Derek asked as he, Emily and Dave walked up to the station, the black SUV beeping itself locked behind them.

"Yeah, no. Calliope," Spencer shrugged and left the answer at that.

Derek just grimaced.

"Chocolate," Emily suggested. "Lots of chocolate."

"I don't want to talk about it," Spencer mumbled and followed Derek and Emily back into the building.

"I've been divorced three times," Dave said as they walked down the hall, giving Spencer a teasing smile. "But I've never been divorced before I actually got married."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What the hell is a moose doing in Washington?" Calliope stared at the animal standing ten feet tall. The moose stared at her as she stared at it and then turned away, continuing it's stroll down the neighbourhood. Calliope hurried back into the house. "Jill, does anyone around here have a pet moose?"

"Not that I know of, but Mrs. Delfinki has a monkey." Jill said without looking up from the hockey game on the screen. "Why?"

"Because there's a moose loose in your street. What's the number for animal control?"

"Because I have the number for animal control memorized."

"Maman, what's a moose?" Emeline asked, looking over from where she sat in Kaden's lap. She was wearing one of Steven's Red Wings jerseys and it was too big on her to even be a nightgown. There was six inches of fabric falling past her feet and the sleeves had been cuffed up so many times that the 5 on the sleeve couldn't be seen. Kaden had put a Virginia Redskins cap on her head and she was curled into his chest, looking content and sleepy.

"It's sort of like a big deer," Calliope told her. "There's one outside, do you want to see?"

Emeline nodded and Kaden stood with her in his arms. "C'mon, Rugrat. Let's go see the moose."

The three of them went out the front door and pointed the moose out to Emeline, who immediately wanted to go pet it. Calliope said no to that request. Once back inside, Kaden and Emeline went back to the couch and Calliope used her phone to look for the number for animal control. The second period was almost over by the time Calliope sat down next to Kaden again. Emeline was asleep against his chest, drooling slightly, and Calliope smiled.

"She adores you."

"I kinda like her too," Kaden shrugged, shifting his niece to his sister's arms. "I better go. School tomorrow and three hours back to Williamsburg."

"Thanks for coming, Kad," Calliope stood with Emeline. "It really meant a lot."

They walked to the door and Kaden slipped into his coat and shoes, pulling his keys from his pocket.

"Callie? Don't worry. Everything'll be fine." Kaden squeezed her shoulder. Calliope nodded and Kaden leaned down to hug her. "Love you."

It was the first time he'd said those words to her and she knew he'd been waiting to say them, not wanting to say them too soon or before she was ready to hear them. They felt right, though. Now, after a day like today, after he'd driven three hours to make sure she was okay. She knew something as she hugged him as tight as she could without waking Emeline.

"I love you too, Kad."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I'm tired, I'm buried under geography homework, Criminal Minds has jumped the shark, my muse for CM fics has been dying with the show, I'm cranky and I'm going to bed. Night friends.**

**Love, Thal**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

><p><em>"Anger ... it's a paralyzing emotion ... you can't get anything done. People sort of think it's an interesting, passionate, and igniting feeling — I don't think it's any of that — it's helpless ... it's absence of control — and I need all of my skills, all of the control, all of my powers ... and anger doesn't provide any of that — I have no use for it whatsoever." - Toni Morrison<em>

o o o o

8 February, 2011

Spencer took a deep breath and slipped the key into the lock, hearing the tumbler unlock. Pushing the door open, Spencer stepped inside, almost expecting the house to explode as he crossed the threshold. Nothing happened. No one came running up to him. No one began shouting. Nothing happened. Not even Perses materialized when the door closed behind him.

"I'm home," Spencer called out tentatively.

Nothing.

"Calliope?" Spencer walked through the house, looking in each room and opening each door. Everything looked mostly untouched from when he had left yesterday morning. There were shoes on the floor and stale coffee in a mug left in the Keurig. Calliope's pajamas were in a heap on the floor, his CalTech sweater on their bed.

Spencer left the house as untouched as he found it, driving to The Hobbit Hole, but that turned up as void of his family as the house. A phone call to Jill reveled that Calliope had left with Emeline early that morning and that Jill was as hostile towards him as he expected Calliope to be. His anger was beginning to build again as Calliope failed to pick up her phone. He'd be willing to bet his life the call had been ignored rather than missed.

_"Spencer," Ben's voice was resigned when he answered the phone. "They showed up two hours ago."_

"I'm leaving Fredericksburg now. Please, Ben, don't tell her I'm coming," Spencer flipped on his turn signal and merged onto the freeway headed south.

_"Alright," Ben agreed, sounding tired. "Emeline will be thrilled to see you. I have a football helmet you might want to wear to see Callie."_

"Hurricane Callie," Spencer repeated the oft-laughed endearment, though his voice held none of the humour the words usually contained. The words were bitter and antagonistic as they tumbled off his tongue, leaving an acidic bile in their wake. "I'm guessing she's a Category Five right about now."

_"She's furious," Ben sighed._

"What's new about that?" Spencer snarked. "She's always right and I'm always wrong. And she just latches on to her anger and let's it fester until she's extracted her own punishment for the crime."

_"I know," Ben agreed. "She's always been like that. I'll try and calm her down before you get here."_

"I appreciate that, but don't try too hard. She wants my head."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Get out!" Calliope shouted. Emeline was shut in her room with Brenda and Spencer had been letting Calliope dig every vicious word she had within her into him for the past half hour. His anger rose and boiled and spilled over from beneath his lid. His teeth felt worn from gritting and grinding and his palms bore marks of where he'd been digging his fingernails into them as he clenched and unclenched his fists. "Get out! You have no business -"

"No, Calliope!" Spencer finally shouted. "I'm done with this! I've said everything I can possibly say. I can't change the last twenty-four hours. I don't know what the hell you want from me, unless you want me to sacrifice a fucking goat. I'm going home and I'm taking Emeline with me. You can do whatever you want. You always do."

"Don't you dare take my daughter," Calliope hissed, chasing after him as he left the bedroom and walked towards Emeline's room.

"Your daughter? My daughter too," Spencer reminded her through gritted teeth. "She is my daughter just as much as she is your daughter!"

"Ha! You think a judge would give you custody of a child without me?" Calliope spat with a vicious laugh. "You? Gone at least three days out of the week? You just left her for a case! Who would take care of Emeline if not for me? The only reason Jack hasn't been taken from Aaron is because Jessica and I take him when Aaron is gone. You think a judge would give you custody of a three-year-old? You're delusional."

"I'm delusional?" Spencer asked, whirling around to snap at her. "I'm delusional? Me? I'm not the one who is so self-righteous that she's never wrong! I'm not the one who thinks I'm better than everyone else around me. I'm not the one that holds grudges and changes locks and makes _everything damn thing_ the other person's fault! I'm not perfect, Calliope. Unlike you, I'm human - I will make mistakes and I'll probably make a lot more of them. But, unlike you, I know I'm not perfect. I know I'll fuck up. You, however, think you're right up there with Mother Teresa!"

"Oh, you are _so _-"

"So what, Calliope? What am I _so_? How am I so horrible, so unworthy? How am I a terrible father and fiancé? How will I make a terrible husband? I leave a lot for my job - you knew about it, you wouldn't let me leave my job when I tried and yet it's _my fault_." Spencer's face flushed a deep red, the anger seeping down his neck and tinging his ears. "I get a call from Lila for the first time in two years, you think I'm cheating on you and it's _my fault_. I was, for a brief second, physically attracted to Cadet Seaver, you interrogated my moment of confusion out of Penelope and then Derek, you changed the lock on our bedroom, made me sleep on the couch, and then threw things at me in the cellar and it's all _my fault_."

He had to raise his voice to drown out whatever Calliope was trying to say at that moment. "You think your pregnant - don't tell me, find out you're not pregnant - still don't tell me, fall into a terrifying depression, loose twenty-five pounds because you won't eat or speak, refuse to talk to me about anything, I find a used pregnancy test in a drawer and confront you about it. You still refused to talk to me and confuse me into assuming you've had an abortion and it was still _ALL MY FUCKING FAULT_.

"I'm done with this Calliope!" Spencer shouted. "I'm done being the scape goat for your self-righteous indignation! I'm your fiancé, not your whipping post! You have _got_ to stop holding on to grudges and refusing to move on when I screw up, because this," Spencer gestured vaguely between them, "is _not_ working."

"You leaving me is not working," Calliope's fists were clenching and unclenching.

"What do you want from me?" Spencer hissed, his teeth ground together. "You won't let me quit my job and then hate me for not quitting my job. I made a mistake. I know, we've gone around and around on this. Do you want me to find cat o' nine tails and punish myself? What the hell do you want from me?"

"I want you to be there when I need you. When I really, really need you."

"When have I not been there when you needed me?" Spencer asked incredulously. "One time. This time. This was the only time where I wasn't there when you really needed me. I've missed things you wanted me to be at, I know. But you didn't _need_ me to be at Easter dinner. You didn't _need_ me to be at that banquet. But I have _always_ been here when you need me. I have never let you down. And yet you act like I've constantly betrayed you, like I'm always letting you down. I had SWAT break into our house for you. I flew to Haiti for you. I said yes to adopting a daughter with you without ever meeting her!"

"Poppy," Emeline stepped out of her bedroom and Spencer abandoned any remaining conversation with Calliope to hurry down the hallway, pick Emeline up and hold her. Emeline wrapped her arms around his neck. "Poppy, are you and Maman fighting?"

"Yes," Spencer said honestly. "But that's okay. Sometimes grownup fight."

"Are you going away again?" Emeline cuddled into his chest, her thumb stuck in her mouth.

"No, Princess," Spencer carried her back into her bedroom, leaving the door open for Calliope if she chose to follow. He sat down on her bed and snuggled her close. "I'm going to stay with you for a while."

"I missed you, Poppy."

"Oh, I missed you too, Eme," Spencer stroked her back. "You are the most important person in the whole world. I'm sorry I wasn't here, Eme. I did my best to get back."

"I know, Poppy," Emeline nuzzled her face into his neck, her slobber covered thumb leaving a trail on his neck. "It's okay. I love you."

"I love you too," Spencer smiled sadly, guilt seeping through his being. Calliope sat in one of the white rockers opposite and watched, a set expression on her face. Spencer ignored her, talking to Emeline about whatever she brought up until the little girl feel asleep. He held her to his chest, leaning back against the headboard as she slept.

"You need to leave," Calliope said quietly, long after Emeline had fallen asleep.

"No," Spencer replied, his voice firm. "I need to be with my daughter. If you don't like that, to use your words: tough shit."

ooo ooo ooo

9 February, 2011

Spencer woke the next morning when the first rays of sunlight filtered in through the windows facing east over the expansive land behind the plantation home. He shifted uncomfortably in the second of the two rockers. He gritted back a grown as his spine cracked and his stiff muscles seized angrily.

"Oh shit," Spencer moaned as quietly as possible, his eyes squeezing shut. "Oh God, I'm definitely not twenty anymore."

He stood, carefully keeping his movements as near silent as possible so he wouldn't wake Emeline asleep in her bed. Spencer braced his hands against his lower back and arched, stopping mid-stretch when he spotted Calliope laying slack and cramped in the other rocker. Anger raised in his throat as a gentle softness soothed his heart.

Blinking, Spencer turned away from Calliope, letting the anger burn away the tenderness he felt for her. He stretched again and tiptoed to the door. With a practiced ease, he closed the door silently behind him and headed down the three flights of stairs to the kitchen. Helena was already awake and working away in the kitchen and Spencer wished her a good morning when he entered. Helena looked up at him and nodded, but didn't respond in kind as she mixed dough for cinnamon rolls.

"You hate me too?" Spencer asked, resigned as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"No, Spencer, I don't hate you," Helena shook her head. "You made a choice. It was wrong. You've admitted that. There's nothing left to say. You're here now and that's what matters. There's some biscuits from last night in the fridge if you're hungry, sweets."

"Thank you, Helena," Spencer smiled. "Really. Thank you."

Spencer scarfed down two biscuits of his way back upstairs and carried a thermos of coffee with him. He sat back down in the rocker, took his phone from pocket and pulled up the Kindle app before taking another sip of coffee and settling in to wait for Emeline to wake.

An hour or so past before a shuffling to his left took his attention away from his book. Calliope shifted awkwardly and slid, smacking her head against the back of the rocker. She jerked awake, cussing as her hand flew to the back of her head.

"Shit," Calliope gasped and Emeline shifted in her sleep. "Oh, fuck, that hurt."

"Shhh," Spencer hushed at her, lifting his coffee back to his lips.

"Is she still asleep?" Calliope asked, not remembering her fury with him as she struggled to free herself from sleep. Spencer nodded, watching and waiting for the moment when her memory came flooding back. He didn't have to wait long before her face hardened towards him.

"You slept there all night?" She asked cooly.

"Yes. I woke up a bit ago. Helena has coffee downstairs," Spencer told her in a whisper, lifting his thermos to his lips. With a scowl that nearly made Spencer laugh, Calliope took the gesture as it was meant and stood, going to get her own coffee instead of being offered a sip of his.

They didn't fight again that morning and, when Emeline woke, they ate chocolate chip pancakes sitting on the floor together around the small coffee in the library. They didn't fight, but they didn't talk either. They ignored each other. They spoke to Emeline and focused solely on her to the point of pretending the other wasn't there.

Spencer found himself resisting the urge to snap at her as the day continued and, from the jutting set of her jaw, he knew she was hard pressed to resist the same urge. It wasn't until after dinner that Spencer spoke directly to Calliope since that morning.

"I'm going back to Fredericksburg. I'm taking Emeline with me, unless she wants to stay here."

"No," Calliope said firmly.

"I don't believe that was a question," Spencer snarled. "Did you hear a place in my statement that indicated you were being given a choice? Because, if so, I assure you that it was completely accidental. In that case, let me restate: I'm going back to Fredericksburg and I'm taking Eme with me unless she says she wants to stay here. Okay? Okay."

Spencer turned without waiting for a reply and went to where Emeline was playing with Ben. When Emeline saw him, she abandoned Ben and ran across the room to him, launching herself into his arms.

"Hey, Princess. You ready to go home?"

"Yes," Emeline said, her smile wide across her face. "I wanna go home."

"Okay. Let's go get your stuff."

Spencer was strapping Emeline into her car seat when Calliope came waltzing out into the garage with a bag over her shoulder and looking extremely expensive. He'd be willing to bet that there was nothing on her person that was retail-priced below a grand and that most of it was well over. Rolling his eyes, Spencer checked the straps at he popped the trunk for Calliope's bag. She was posturing, puffing her feathers out and reminding him exactly with whom he was dealing. He kissed Emeline's forehead as Calliope let Perses into the back seat and slid gracefully into the front seat and adjusted her custom Fendi sunglasses, the ones Fendi had sent her in hopes she would be photographed wearing them. Gritting his teeth, Spencer sat in the drivers seat, turned on the car and, with a wave to Ben and Brenda, pulled out of the garage.

Emeline fell asleep halfway back to Fredericksburg, leaving Spencer and Calliope sitting alone in their silence, a solid wall of malice erected between them that felt to Spencer as if it might as well have been a hundred miles wide. Usually, he would hold her hand as he drove and they' done talking and laughing, but tonight both hands were firmly, tightly, gripping the steering wheel.

"Where are you planning to sleep tonight?" Calliope asked as he pulled off the interstate at the exit to Fredericksburg.

"I'm planning to sleep in my bed," Spencer said, ignoring her sickly sweet voice.

"Are you sure?"

"Are you planning to outfit my side of the bed with bear traps? Or strangle me in my sleep? Either way, it'll be difficult to prove to the police you didn't kill me."

Calliope didn't respond, she turned her face to look out the window into the darkness. The heavy silence returned and Spencer pulled into the garage fifteen minutes later. Ignoring Calliope, he took Emeline from her car seat and carried her to her bedroom, putting her into her pajamas and tucking her into bed. Calliope came in to kiss Emeline goodnight as he was leaving the bedroom. So Spencer walked down the hallway to the master suite with Perses on his heels. He was changing into his own pajamas when Calliope opened the bedroom door. They brushed their teeth side-by-side, not even looking at each other in the mirror, and Spencer left the bathroom as she was putting night cream on her face.

Spencer slipped into bed, took his book from his bedside table and opened to his bookmark. Calliope came out a few minutes later, getting into the other side and turning so that her back was to him. She turned out her bedside lamp, leaving the room dark except for the light by Spencer. Not a single acknowledgment that he was in the bed next to her. Spencer only read for twenty minutes or so, definitely no more than thirty, before turning out his own lamp, laying on his back and closing his eyes. No kiss goodnight, no mention of sleeping well, no whispers of love. Just cold, angry silence.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**¡Hola! ¿Como estas? It's been almost exactly 9 months (aka tomorrow) since I last updated this story. It hasn't been abandoned, I'm simply unable to find time to write as much as I used to or even as often as I'd like. This isn't an apology, because I have nothing for which to apologise. I would, however, appreciate it if the handful of people who repeatedly fill my PM box with messages threatening or attempting to guilt me into updating would stop. It's not exactly like PMs are anonymous. I know who you are. And it doesn't make me feel guilty. It makes me angry and less willing to use the little time I have to write. I'm a senior at a very difficult university. I took 18 hours last spring, 12 hours this summer, and another 16 hours this fall. I also work 24 hours a week and volunteer/observe at two different schools for a total of 8 hours a week. I also spend 1.5-2 hours a day driving back and forth to school. I have no time. I get 4-5 hours of sleep a night if I'm lucky. I had to go back to drinking soda and Monster, which I had quit drinking, because I'm exhausted and can't function without the additional caffeine. I'm grouchy, I'm cranky and, quite frankly, running out of steam. I'm trying my hardest to keep up with everything on my plate, but something had to drop and it happened to be writing. And, while I feel badly that these stories have been on such long hiatuses, I'm not apologising, because I really have nothing for which to apologise. If I went back to apologising for everything, I'd never say anything but "I'm sorry."**

**Thank you to those who have been kind and understanding and especially to those few people who sent me PMs spurring me on! It was very much appreciated and I adore you for it! I'm sending all of you hugs and cookies. And pie. Lots of pie. (Right, Jen?) **

**Anyways, I hope the wait was semi-worth it. Love you all!**

**Thal**

**P.S. That whole rant was _not_ referring to the simple "please update!"-s at the end of review or at the end of nice PMs. These are particular cases with exceptionally rude messages. xoxo**


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